If You Only Once Would Let Me
by LightintheDark23
Summary: My interpretation of Madge and Gale's story, inspired by The Hunger Games Trilogy. Explores the possibility of something undeniable between The Boy with the Snares and the girl who bought his strawberries...
1. Heart Is Hard To Find

_**A/N: Hello fanfiction readers, this is my first attempt at this sort of thing, so any feedback would be very welcome. This is set during Catching Fire in the time between the end of the Victory Tour and Katniss and Peeta's re-entry into The Games. I love that Suzanne Collins left Madge and Gale's story to the imagination, and some truly fantastic writing posted on this site has explored their dynamics. This is my ode to said stories, and of course, SC's wonderful characters. I'm mainly posting this first chapter as an experiment, so if you guys like it I will either jump back to The Hunger Games and tell the story running up to this chapter OR just continue from here. I might even alternate between past and present. It would be great to know whether people feel the rest of this story should be told! Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise from The Hunger Games trilogy, I'm borrowing these lovely characters from Suzanne Collins.**_

Chapter 1: Heart Is Hard To Find

_Gale's P.O.V._

As I approach the tiny cabin we like to call Headquarters I pause to take in my surroundings. My hunter's senses pick up on no unusual sounds and movements until a beautiful noise pierces the silence, drifting from Headquarters and startling me from my surveillance of the quiet woods. _Madge._I'd recognise that sound anywhere. She's laughing. Probably letting tears leak from her crinkled eyes. Scrunching her nose and biting her lower lip in an attempt to hold in the mirth that lights her face and warms me to my core. I rock back on my heels, thoroughly enjoying a sound that has been absent from my life for too long. Allowing myself a grin whilst no one is around to see, I bathe in her image until an abrupt thought enters my head, rudely interrupting my daydream. Who was responsible for the lovely sound? She didn't laugh like that for just anyone. I remember the swell of pride on those long days in the cabin when I would inadvertently make a comment, pull a face or tell a story that would merit such a sound. Only I'm not with her now, and whoever is has earned an emotion from her I have long buried with my pride and doubt. I scowl as the shame washes over me, stealing all the warmth I'd drawn from the woman I now knew I loved. Then a new, more familiar emotion turned my vision red..._anger_.

Storming down the rest of the pathway I threw open the door ready to jealously order Katniss and Peeta to leave and stop allowing the sound of Madge's happiness to torture me, when my eyes fell on a scene worse than the one I'd imagined...

_Madge's P.O.V._

"You want me to stop teasing you Ms Undersee?"

"_Yes_ Darius, I'm trying to work!" I sigh, exasperated.

"Well well well, someone's taking herself seriously today." He huffs, a smirk ruining his attempt at looking wounded. I raise an eyebrow, setting down my pen and the newspaper I had been searching for any scrap of news that would help Peeta and Katniss.

"Don't give me that. You know we're running out of time until they have to leave for the Games, I'm just trying to stay focused."

"You better watch out Undersee, or I might just need to persuade you to ease up a little" he insinuates boldly, scooting across the bench until his eyes are even with mine, his broad frame blocking the light from the window. I swallow, blushing as his fingers pull gently on a lock of my hair escaping from my messy ponytail.

"I don't know what you're babbling about, but whatever it is, you wouldn't dare" I sniff.

"Oh really?" He raises his hands, grinning cheekily.

Just as I was planning my escape route from his lips, his hands grab me pulling me onto his lap and he _tickles me like an unruly child._Shocked_,_I begin to laugh uncontrollably (partly from relief) as Darius pinches my sides and pokes my stomach. I'm horrified by the girlish squeals escaping from my lips and echoing round the room. Suddenly the door flies open and Darius freezes, scowling when he sees that the intrusion into his latest unwanted yet undeniably persistent advances turns out to be an inexplicably furious Gale. I'm still frozen in shock at the wild look in his eyes when Darius loops his arms around my waist as if I was perched on his knee by choice. The livid flash of Gale's steel grey eyes shocks me to my senses and I jump up swatting at Darius' arms.

"It's not what it looks like!" I blurt out before I can stop myself. A muscle twitches in Gale's jaw as he folds his arms across his chest, stretching the fabric of his grey t-shirt across his impossibly broad shoulders. He says nothing so I continue.

"Darius was just acting like a complete idiot as usual." I shoot a venomous glance at the face framed by a shock of red hair that now really does look wounded. I regret my sharp tone for a moment until Darius speaks up, standing to glower at his former friend and (currently reluctant) ally. "Just having a bit of fun Gale, enjoying each other's company. What's with the daggers?"

Gale splutters and flexes his long muscular fingers (never a good sign) throws down his pack with a loud _thwack_ and strides forward to glare the few inches down to Darius.

"While you two are '_having a bit of fun'_and_'enjoying each other's company'_I'm risking my life in the mines to gather information. Peeta and Katniss are training for hours on end to fight to the death". His voice climbs enough decibels to make me cower slightly.

"Even that waste of space Haymitch is working on his Capitol contacts to try to keep them alive in there for as long as possible! While you two are drooling all over each other, you could be finding information that could bring one of them home. Bring _Katniss_home Madge!" He turns his obsidian glare to target me. I stare at him, shocked. Hurt bubbling through my veins. Katniss. That's what he's so mad about. He thinks I'm dooming his one true love by allowing myself to forget for ten minutes how hard everything's been these last few months. Why shouldn't I take a minute out of my day of illegal activity (unwillingly I might add) to act like the teenager I am and not feel heartbroken by the fact that my best friend is likely to die in a few weeks? Why shouldn't I stop agonising for _one moment_ over the fact that there is nothing I can do to about it except scour old newspapers for clues about the arena that will haunt her nightmares for years to come - assuming she even survives it? After he forged our strange but powerful connection then snatched it away along with all of the kindness and warmth between us who is he to judge me?

"That's not fair" I say quietly, my even tone surprising both men. Gale opens his mouth to spout another volley of biting words when I continue, cutting him off.

"You know I love Katniss and Peeta, and that I would do, no _have_done anything in my power to help them through this. That's why I'm here. That's why we're all here". I motion to Darius who seems content to let me defend myself, which I appreciate.

"How dare you accuse us of not doing enough when we practically live here in the woods, where we'd be killed if the Peacekeepers find us? I know you're worried about her, but you have no right to storm in on an innocent moment of silliness and start yelling!" I blush as I realise the hypocrisy of me yelling this last admonishment. Gale looks slightly stunned, but still angry. Darius is now smirking again, an inexplicable glint of grim realisation in his eyes. Gale finds his voice.

"Maybe if you two didn't waste your time fondling each other I wouldn't need to yell." That is the last straw. What right does he have to accuse me of having something going on with Darius? What is this? If Gale doesn't want Madge then no one else can even glance in her general direction?

"Gale Hawthorne, you are a complete ass!" I choke, silently berating the angry tears spilling from my treacherous eyes. His eyes widen momentarily when I curse but his mouth stays in a firm line as I stomp out wiping my eyes furiously.

_Gale's P.O.V_

I completely lost it. A roaring fire seared the space behind my eyes and ice clenched in my fists when I saw her in his arms. _Darius_. That _idiot_ was who she was choosing to let make her beautiful face scrunch with such decadent laughter. I want to break the pale District 2 hands grabbing at her waist, Snap the lanky legs she's sitting on and wipe that petulant sappy grin off his face. The one he gained from watching her squirm. I was cruel. I know I was cruel to play on her guilt. But how can you explain what even you yourself don't understand? How can you tell the woman you don't even deserve to breathe the same air as that despite all the times you hurt her, it kills you to hear her laugh with someone else? My confusion makes me bitter and I accuse her of flirting with Darius. I panic for a moment, thinking I've let slip why I'm really shouting in her face but she doesn't notice. She just curses at me and then breaks my heart by bursting into angry tears and storming out the same way I stormed in. From the smirk on that Peacekeeper jerk's face I can tell my real motives are not lost on his shrewd little brain. When the door slams behind her I fight with myself for a moment, itching with every fibre of my being to run after her, pull her into my arms and crush my lips to hers, all whilst using my hands to make sure she forgets this loser ever touched her. To curb this almost unbearable urge feels ridiculously foreign and I slam my fist into the wall, welcoming the pain as it calms my racing mind. Darius actually has the gall to laugh. I spin round as he claps slowly.

"Lovely. Very nice performance there Hawthorne, I almost believed you weren't jealous of me. You've put on a very good show of being all googly eyed over Katniss but the question is...Why? When you and I both know the sight of Madge and I makes you want to snap me in half." He smirks.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" I snarl, grabbing the front of his stupid white uniform. "Touch her again and you'll wish I'd snapped you in half". He smiles serenely shoving me off him. I let him go, knowing that I would look like the bad guy to Madge if I gave him the black eye he so richly deserves.

"You know Hawthorne, before your little display I thought I had no chance with her."

"You don't!" I snort. He looks nothing short of elated.

"Madge deserves someone who'll fight for her. Someone solid, not some blind idiot confused by feelings for someone he never had. She deserves someone who can look after her and give her everything she wants, _everything_she deserves. You mess her around, yell and make her _cry_ and I stayed out of it because we were friends and to be honest, I thought you'd be good for each other. Now I realise that you're just a coward." He shoves me backwards and I grab his shirt front again, fuming.

"What can you give her?" he continues. "More tears? Your foul temper? _A hovel in the Seam?"_ He sneers. "You don't deserve her." My eyes drop, unable to confront this harsh truth."Neither do I." he admits. "I honestly can't think of anyone who does. The difference between you and me is that I won't let anything stand in the way of her feeling happy and loved. Will you?"

I shove him bodily out of the door, stunned. He glares at me for a moment then turns on his heel into the forest towards the fence. I slam the door behind him as I slide down the walls and let my head fall into the careless, calloused hands in which the strongest girl I know once placed her guarded, fragile heart. After a short while the anger ebbs and determination takes over. As much as I hate him, Darius was right. I don't deserve her and I never will. I don't have anything to offer her but pain and a frugal future. My love doesn't mean anything if I don't protect her from getting hurt and living a life she was never meant to lead. I decide then and there to let her be happy with whoever she chooses, even Darius. I will prove this to her silently in the only way I know how...by letting her go.

_Madge's P.O.V_

After running for about a quarter of an hour, I reach the one place I can go to think – The Meadow. It's dark now and I lie on my back in the tall grass, wiping my eyes and searching the smatterings of stars for answers to questions I can't bring myself to ask. I don't know how long I've been lying there when I hear Darius calling my name. He's loud now but getting quieter, clearly moving away. I lie still, closing my eyes on the guilt I feel for staying hidden. I just can't bear to look into his eager, joyful eyes framed always by a cheeky grin knowing that I could never _ever_return his feelings, no matter how much he deserves a chance. I whimper, remembering the hatred in the soft grey eyes that haunt my dreams every damn night. I thump my fist on the ground, suddenly furious at his hold over me. When will I learn?_He doesn't want you, stupid. He never will._ He'd made that perfectly clear.

_Gale's P.O.V_

I'm moving silently through the long grass in the meadow, hoping to find her and say...who knows what...something. A declaration of love? An apology? God knows she deserves to hear both. But when I hear the whimper and see her frustrated thrashing and overflowing blue eyes, all I can do is stare. She is lying on her back, her soft golden hair fanned out above her head. Her skin looks almost translucent in the half-light of the stars and her full, pink lips currently trembling sadly stand out against her deep troubled blue eyes. I hungrily drink in the length of her, my insides squirming at the sight of how devastatingly beautiful, broken and fragile she looks lying with her arms hugging her small waist so tightly. Her legs are drawn up underneath the pale blue material of her dress, revealing the smooth skin of her calves and bare feet. The sight of her steals my breath, leaving in its place a lump in my throat I'm unable to swallow.

I whistle the first few notes of a tune from a song she wrote during the Games, our signal. As she sits up suddenly alert and turns away from me to wipe the last moisture from her face, I pause to remember the first time I heard her play the song that began as a tentative offer of friendship and became so much more. Her face turns back to me, her characteristic calm strength returning to her delicate features but not quite reaching her eyes. I stumble forwards from the copse concealing me and jam my hands in my pockets, studying her face in an attempt to gauge what she's thinking. She draws her knees up under her chin and hugs her arms round her legs, a protective stance. My eyes drop in shame as she studies me as I've seen her study a wild animal she's frightened will harm her. I swallow the lump making a reappearance in my throat and choke out "Can I?" gesturing to the space beside her. She nods quickly, staring at her hands. I catch the familiar scent of fresh strawberries on the breeze, the one that always lingers on her skin. Finally she speaks, but it's not what I expect.

"I'm sorry I shouted, Gale. You were right, we were wasting time."

"No Madge" I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, exhausted by my own shame. "I had no right to speak to you like that. You risk your life as much of the rest of us. I didn't mean what I said." I finish lamely.

"Then why did you say it? It must have come from somewhere Gale." She murmurs, brushing my shoulder as she stands up and walks towards the clear pool of water nearby. I shiver at her touch. She wades in, holding her skirt above the water and bends down to cup the cool water in her hand, bringing it to her lips. I kick of my shoes and join her leaving only enough space between us to allow my breath to lift a few strands of her hair, but enough to make sure we aren't touching. She stands stock still, waiting for an answer I have no idea how to give. She interprets my silence.

"Gale, Katniss came back once, she can do it again."

_Madge P.O.V_

I know exactly what he's thinking. I always do. So I reassure him with my back turned so that he can't see the pain that twists my face at the reminder of why he hurt me yet again. _Her,_always her. My best friend.

"That's not it!" the gruff frustrated truth in his voice is enough to make me turn in surprise. I gasp, not realising he was so close behind me. I take a deep breath, raising my eyes to meet his, terrified of what I'll find. I gasp again. There isn't anger, hatred or sarcasm, only _pain._Enough to mirror my own.  
>"Gale?" I whisper, moving my hand unconsciously to run my fingers along his rough jaw. He closes his eyes at my touch, his face peaceful. Then he wrenches his cheek from my hand and stomps out of the water. I flinch as though he slapped me, feeling the deep wound of rejection he inflicted months ago reopen just as painfully. I storm out after him.<br>"_What_Gale? I deserve the truth! We used to tell each other everything, now you can barely look me in the eye!"  
>He keeps his back to me but growls "You and <em>Him<em>. What's going on?"  
>I stare at his back in confusion for a few seconds then splutter "<em>Darius<em>? Nothing! I told you that, he was just messing around!"  
>"No Madge, he's not!"He turns to face me, his long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know Darius, ok? I've seen him 'mess around' with girls, Katniss included, and he is more serious than I think I've ever seen him. Don't you see his eyes following you everywhere?" His own eyes darken further. "All the excuses he makes to <em>touch<em> you, to be alone with you? You didn't seem to be complaining either...do you have feelings for him?" I recoil at his tone of utter disgust.

I'm shocked. How can he think I would let anything get in the way of helping Katniss? He really does still think I'm nothing but a selfish, entitled priss, getting my hands dirty with the rebellion for kicks. After all we've spoken about, the stinging realisation that he still doesn't know me at all awakens all the fight in me I have left.

_Gale's P.O.V_

Without warning she flies across the small patch of grass separating us and shoves me with all her strength. I fall over onto my backside, taken completely by surprise. I almost want to laugh, but the look on her face stops that thought dead in its tracks. She stands over me, face red with rage, blue eyes blazing brilliantly.  
>"What business is it of yours Gale Hawthorne?" she spits. "I risk my neck every day for her, for <em>you.<em>How can I help it if Darius took the time to notice that I was a girl during all the time spend alone in a cabin fighting for a future more uncertain than the miserable one we have now. Why shouldn't love be allowed when we could die any day now?"  
>I swear I feel my heart break. It's worse than I thought, <em>she loves him.<em>

_"Love?"_ I manage to choke out, desperate to be wrong. Tears begin to spill out of her poor swollen eyes again.

"Is that so ridiculous? That someone could love the stuck-up, selfish Mayor's daughter who stands by with her _pretty dresses_ as her district starves? That someone could find her mildly attractive, and believe that there's someone behind the stupid blue eyes worth letting in? I know what you think of me Gale, you made that 100% clear. But to get angry because someone might not be as disgusted by me as you are is_ pathetic_!" she hisses.  
>My head spins. That's how she thinks I see her? That's what she thinks I'm angry about? I stare incredulously at the beauty in front of me, horrified at the way she has interpreted my distance after those dream-like few weeks of happiness. My mind races, desperately searching for the words that could make this right, that would wipe the pain and anger from her delicate features. I growl wordlessly at my failure and in one smooth motion that feels as easy and right as anything ever has, I stand and pull her to me, unable to let her go on thinking she is unloved and unwanted by me for a second longer.<p> 


	2. Sweetness

_**A/N: This is a bit of a filler chapter- sorry! It's set when Gale is 8 and Madge is 6 (and three quarters). I wasn't sure about posting this but I've decided I really want to go back and give the background for "Heart Is Hard To Find" before I move on. To begin, this is my take on how Gale and Madge first met. Hope you like it!**_

_**Many many thanks, to everyone who reviewed. You were all very kind, encouraging and helpful. Would anyone be interested in beta-ing? Clearly my grammar/punctuation/spelling (oh dear) leave a lot to be desired, but it would be great to have someone to bounce ideas and characterisation off of too.**_

_**Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes, but I'll re-edit in the next few days just in case.**_

Chapter 2 : Sweetness

_Madge's P.O.V_

My name is Margaret Annabeth Undersee, and I am 6 and three quarters. Not many people know this about me, but I'm a Princess. Not one of those boring ones from the old books that fall asleep in enchanted towers having a lie in while some _boy_ has all the adventures. No. I am Madge of the 12th Kingdom, ruled by my father the King and his beautiful Queen. Before I was born, an evil Emperor named Snow cast a spell over the Kingdom, separating the two noble families of 12 leaving one forever rich and the other poor. This made sure the two families were enemies, never banding together to fight back. Over the years the evil Emperor was drawn to the Queen of 12's famous beauty. Seeing how much the Queen loved her new baby daughter, the Emperor grew jealous and cursed her with a sickness no Doctor could cure so that she could never play or laugh with her little girl. The kind King himself was banished to the castle Dungeons for all eternity, with only paper and whirring machines for company.

The King and Queen trusted me with the task of freeing the 12th Kingdom from the evil Emperor Snow. While they are locked away, I travel far and wide to keep peace in the Kingdom, slaying the Dragons of the forest, spying on the enemy and caring for the animals and people depending on the Kingdom for protection. I don't have time for friends. The Kingdom is at stake, after all...

_Gale's P.O.V_

A large, calloused hand grips my shoulder as I doze in the barely there glow of the early morning sun. I shoot up instantly throwing off the covers, grabbing at my father's shirt tails and begin to shout "Are we-"... a hand clamps over my mouth and steel grey eyes level with mine. I blink excitedly and he simply growls "Shut it, Kiddo. Your Mum would kill me if she knew I was taking you over the fence" and gives me a shove out the door. Silently punching the air, I sneak past a snoring Rory and run to grab my heavy jacket. I run out of the door and my father follows, scowling as usual. As I run towards the meadow he catches my shoulder, turns me around grips me in a rough but warm hug and mutters gruffly, "Happy Birthday son". I grin up at him, ready to savour the day. The day my Dad would teach me how to hunt.

As we reach the fence I begin to shiver with excitement. All of a sudden Dad grabs me again and kneels down in front of me. "Promise me something right now Gale. Promise me you'll never try to hop the fence on your own, ok?" I roll my eyes at the familiar lecture but he shakes my shoulder to regain my attention. "I'm serious son, it isn't safe. I hunt every day to keep you out of here, just like your Granddad did for me until he died. You know why Mum doesn't like us going in here, its _illegal_". He makes a face like the word tastes bad in his mouth. "But it's my son's eighth Birthday. I'll be damned if I don't take him out like a real Hawthorne man to taste a little freedom." He claps me on the shoulder again then keeps walking; his long strides double the length of my own despite my unusual height.

He pulls up the wire, shoves me through and tells me to run for the trees. I comply, heart pounding. He strides after me calmly, his face glowing. The next few hours live up to my expectations and more. My Father presents me with my very own oak bow, brand new arrows, and a deep red leather quiver that belonged to my Uncle who died when my Father was around my age. The heartfelt gifts would have seemed simple to the Town kids at school who got computers and intricate games from the expensive toy store in the Town square. But my life was not a game. Life in the Seam was hearty and warm, but it was tough. The gifts my Father gave me felt like my tickets to manhood, to helping him provide for our family and ultimately to emulate the best man I knew. After a successful lesson that yielded a squirrel or two we break for breakfast. My mouth drops open as my Dad pulls out a fresh loaf of bread, cold meat, soft cheese and a small pot of jam. A feast! I dig in happily as my Dad leans back on the rock and soaks in the sun's welcoming rays.

I'm still munching on some cheese when Dad snaps his head up, his clever eyes scanning a dense copse of oaks to our right. He gathers up the food and stuffs it in his pack (despite my loud protests). He hisses for me to be quiet and shoves me behind the large cluster of rocks we were relaxing on just moments before. He grabs my chin and whispers "Whatever happens Gale, _don't come out._ No matter what you hear or what you see, don't come out 'til I say it's safe. If it gets dark, run home. Quietly like I taught you". I nod, suddenly frightened. "Dad?" I whisper. "Quiet now, son." He murmurs back darting out from cover, bow drawn.

_Madge's P.O.V_

I spin around trying desperately to pick out a tree or a flower that I recognise. Sighing, I flop down onto the damp ground carefully placing my book on a dry covered rock thinking how difficult today's hunt had been. No glimpse of any dragons, just trees and rain. Now I'd never make it back to the castle before nightfall. I look to my right and see the small smatterings of red in a leafy plant at the foot of a huge tree. _Strawberries. _My Dad's favourite. I had thought maybe he would leave the dungeons, just for a little while if I brought some berries home... so I left the path through the woods and got lost. It will be light soon so I gather as many leaves as I can carry, cover myself with them and curl up at the bottom of the tree clutching my book, waiting for the light to show me the path. Amongst the berries that smell of my Dad, I fall asleep.

The sun eventually creeps upwards, waking me with its rays dancing through the swaying branches of the huge oaks that shelter me. I'm startled to see an impossibly tall man with a huge, menacing looking bow standing above me. He crouches down to my level and reaches out his hand. "Hey there" he coughs gruffly. "Sorry if I scared you, but what the hel-*cough* heck is a little townie like you doing here in the woods? Are you lost?" I tentatively take his big hand and give it a firm shake like my Dad taught me. "Yes Sir. I was hunting for Dragons last night but I lost the path" I murmur shyly. "Dragons, hm?" his grey eyes crinkle. I nod. "I'm a Princess, you see. It's my job." He nods his understanding. I watch him carefully, taking in his hugeness and suddenly it all makes sense. "You must be the other King!" his laughter booms across the woods.

Gale's P.O.V

After a few minutes of crouching tensely behind the rocks, I hear my Dad laughing . I breathe a sigh of relief and run to meet him, ready to laugh right back at him for getting so worked up over what was probably just loud game. Of all the scenes I imagine as I pick my way through the dense woods (a lynx, a raided Grouse nest, even a human caught in one of our snares) the one that greets me as I step into a small clearing is by far the most surprising.

My Dad is staring down at a small girl, with hair the colour of my Great Grandfather's gold watch, wide trusting blue eyes and impossibly pale skin. She's staring up at my Dad smiling as though he'd won a thousand Hunger Games. I stand stock still for a moment. She must be a townie, with those eyes. What on earth is this tiny thing doing in the woods? She looks delicate enough to be broken by a strong gust of wind.

Her azure eyes turn abruptly to meet mine and suddenly I feel strange, airy and light. "You must be the Prince" she says smiling. I stare at her confused. I'd been called many things in my short life, but never a _Prince_ that's for sure. What was this kid playing at? I look to my Dad for a cue on how to deal with this strange and beautiful creature. He simply shrugs and scratches the back of his head looking as lost as I do.

"I'm just Gale," I deadpan. She smiles shyly in return, "Like the wind?"

"Um, yeah." I shove my hands in my pockets, scowling. My eyes widen slightly as her tiny hand reaches up to grip my Father's sleeve and tugs until he crouches down. She whispers something in his ear and his booming laugh rings through the clearing yet again. She continues and he listens, a tender expression on his face. Eventually he stands up, smiling and his huge hand engulfs her miniature one. "Yes, believe it or not he is." His eyes crinkle as they seemingly appraise me, laughing inexplicably and my eyes dart from the little stranger to the familiar face. "And yes, we'll show you the way out."

"Thank you Sir!" she beams up at him again, hugging his knee. My Dad and I exchange bashful looks and begin to stride towards the fence. As we walk I think about the strange situation, so far departed from how I expected the morning to end. I should be angry, I decide. This girl, this _townie_ cut short my day alone with my Dad in the woods. Now she's chatting his ear off about dragons and towers and all sorts of stupid things. I should be angry, but I'm not. I listen and watch silently as she makes my gruff father laugh over and over with tales of magic and curses and kingdoms. I find myself drawn into the strange world she weaves, almost believing in the friendship and courage she speaks so firmly of. She has to run to keep up with even one of our strides, but never complains. Just blinks and smiles at us in awe as if we were truly the heroes from the book she clutches as though it were made of solid gold.

She must notice me looking. "Have you ever read this book?" I shake my head no. She stops and thrusts it into my hands. "It's wonderful. The story about the Dragon is the best, you can borrow it. I've read it loads. It tells you everything about the Kingdom and what we have to do, who we have to be." I look to my Dad and he smiles. "We'll take good care of it. Gale can drop it off when he's done." She continues and I listen, grudgingly interested, holding the book reverently away from stray branches and leaves. I flush at how expensive the book must be, maybe this kid isn't such a stuck up townie as I'd thought. We don't hear many stories like this in the Seam, there aren't many books. My mother only keeps a few tattered volumes; "1984", "A Tale of Two Cities" and "The Cellist of Sarajevo".

We reach the fence eventually and my Dad lifts us both over. Suddenly Madge drops my Dad's hand and curtsies like the old town ladies do when they meet on the street. I start to chuckle but stop as my Dad gives me a stern look. "Thank you both very much, Goodbye!" She begins to trot down the cobbled path towards the Seam-Town boundary and I breathe a sigh of relief that quickly turns into a groan as my Dad catches her by the shoulder. "Hold up there, girl. We'll walk with you to your house." I almost protest, eager to escape her piercing eyes, then remember what my Dad always says about gentlemen walking girls to their doors and hurry to catch up.

We follow her tiny steps until we reach the town square, the Mayor's mansion looming grandly above our heads. "Where to now Madge?" my Dad asks as I scan the square, glad that none of my friends from the Seam were around this early to catch me with a townie.

"We're here" she points calmly to the huge red door of the Mayor's house. "This is where you live?" my father splutters, clearly putting two and two together whilst I can only stare stupidly. "Yup" she whispered, staring at the ground. "Madge..." my Dad begins, "Is your father the Mayor? – sorry - King _Undersee_?" I start to laugh, yeah right Dad. The Mayor's kid who everyone knows isn't even allowed to go to school with the Seam urchins was running around the forest, staying out all night? Fat chance.

She shoots me a glare that looks so foreign on her face that I shut up. Surely not?

"Yes" she whispers to her feet. As I gaze up at the little Princess' castle, and all of a sudden I remember why I should hate her. Life isn't a game. Maybe this dumb townie could live with the fairies playing castles all day but I couldn't. Her words; her book, her tales of courage and friendship, all lies. I thrust the beautiful book back at her, suddenly disgusted by the gold trim and her childish offer of friendship. Her startled look of confusion almost makes me regret it, then one glance down at my tattered shoes next to her polished black boots and snow white socks and I scowl. "I won't be needing your stupid book _Princess. _It's for little kids_." _I sneer.

"Gale!" my Dad cries, shocked. "What?" I jut my chin out. Before he can answer, Madge runs up the path shouting, "Thank you Sir, I...I'll find a way to repay you one day!" My Dad lifts his hand in a silent goodbye she doesn't see.

She runs up the steps and yanks the door handle. My Dad turns on his heel to leave, clearly angry though I don't really know why. I sneak one last look at the prettiest girl I'd ever seen and see her tear-stained face staring back at me. I stare at her dumbly, the sight of her eyes shining and her lip trembling tug at me somewhere making her uncomfortable to watch.

"G-Gale?" she murmured. I look up. "Could you please get the key down for me? The door is locked." I turn wide-eyed to my Dad. Surely the Mayor knew his little 'Princess' was out all night? Surely there was a search party and frantic calls made? I imagine the look on my Mother's face if me or Rory ever stayed out all night and shudder. Not pretty. My father folds his arms and raised an eyebrow, disappointment radiating from his stance. I slowly walk up to the step and stare down at Madge guiltily. She cranes her neck and stands on her tiptoes, reaching towards a delicate birdhouse. I easily reach in – quickly because the way she's reaching so desperately makes my chest feel tight – and grab a large gold key.

"Thank you" she whispers, her clear blue eyes never meeting mine. He tiny hands push the key in the lock and turn it until the huge door swings open. My ears are suddenly pierced by a horrible wailing sound from inside the huge house. "Mama!" cries Madge, darting inside. The last image of her I see is a flash of blonde hurtling up the huge staircase before the door swings shut. I stand there dazed. No one realised she was out all night.

As I return to my frantic mother and still-sleeping little brother, for the first time in my life I thank whatever God might be up there for my life in the Seam, and feel truly sorry for a townie. I wonder what made her turn from her privileged world to the one she spun from her book. What made Madge Undersee leave her mansion in the middle of the night to face dragons bigger than those in her beautiful home?

_**I hope this wasn't too much of an unfavourable detour from the previous chapter, the next will be up much sooner than this one was now that classes are over! It would be great if you guys could let me know what you think of me jumping back in time and whether you'd like the next chapter to progress chronologically too. This will be the only chapter of them as children, I want to explore the friendship between Gale, Darius and Madge, and how my two favourite characters got so angsty! Thanks so much for reading.**_


	3. Call It In The Air

_**A/N: Thank you guys again for the reviews, your kind words have been massively helpful. Here's the next chapter, set about 5 years after 'Sweetness'.**_

Chapter 3: Call It In The Air

_Madge's P.O.V_

I wake up to a loud scream. As usual my Dad must have locked himself in his office before dawn forgetting to give Mom her morphling. I'm almost certain it's deliberate; he never could stand the injection aspect. I jump out of bed, grab a robe and run the familiar length of the two corridors to my parents' room. I pause outside the door, hand hovering above the handle and brace myself by imagining light dancing through the woods and shrouding myself in the familiar sounds and smells of my favourite place in the world. _Later. _I promise myself. Another piercing scream shatters my reverie and I quickly enter, moving to place my small hand over my mother's damp forehead.

"Hey Mama" I whisper.

"Please, please get it, please" is her only reply, repeating the words like a mantra until I move to the cupboard in the bathroom. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my features are as blank as ever. I take a moment whilst measuring the correct amount and decanting the foul smelling liquid into the syringe to search my own face for something, someone I'll recognise. As usual I fail, wondering absentmindedly how in the space of 5 or 6 years I managed to lose track of myself.

Once my mother has fallen into another delirious sleep and I have washed and dressed for school I clamber up the small staircase in the living room to the attic to kill time before I have to leave. I stop in the middle of the small room enjoying the sun warming me through the many windows then take a seat at my piano, laying my fingers on the familiar keys. I begin to tap out a light rhythm, almost like scales whilst trying to decide what to play. I jump from my seat remembering a beautiful Ancient American piece I have the music for somewhere. I search the bookcase by the door, my hands ghosting over titles as familiar to me as old friends. My fingers stop on a large leather bound volume with gold trim, and I pull it out. A smile tugs at my lips as I remember how the book of fairy tales gave my lonely life purpose for a few short years. Soon after I'd started school four years ago aged seven (I'd begged to go since I was four) I woke up to real life. Jarred to reality by the cruel words of my peers, I left behind the safety of my own little world and paid attention to what was going on around me. _Gale was right, _I thought sadly. The book is for little kids. I still place it back on the shelf with care wishing for a little brother or sister to gift it to, knowing it will never happen. I thumb through my folder of sheet music until I find the old yellowing page titled "Einaudi: Nuvole Bianche". Whilst smoothing the keys into the familiar lifts and breaks I remember why this piece is my favourite. A song that knows you better than yourself, and says all the things you can't in five minutes fifty-eight seconds is beautiful indeed. The music gives me back a little of myself and I relax into the melody.

I'm startled for the third time this morning by yelling and movement downstairs. I jump up and run down the small staircase, freezing behind the small door as I recognise the head peacekeeper Cray's gravelly voice. I shiver. Something about that man frightens me intensely. I press my ear to the door and listen.

"How many dead?" my Dad's voice sounds so desperate.

427 recovered Sir, a further 120 are missing presumed dead." A cold horror washes over me. _The mines_. I remember another mining accident when I was very little. It killed fifty and my Dad had frantically campaigned to the Capitol for better safety mechanism such as early warning systems and gas monitors. So far it had worked, nothing like this had ever hit district 12.

"Dispatch the third battalion to inform the families. Then make the announcement to Snow."

"Sh-shouldn't it b-be the other way round Sir?" I imagine the look my Dad is giving this peacekeeper and shudder.

"You have your orders. Follow them immediately" my father hisses. I hear a chorus of "Yes SIR!" and the thud of heavy boots leaving the large living room.

Before retreating back upstairs, I let the shocking news wash over me and fill my eyes with tears. I shove my fist in my mouth to stop a sob from escaping. The horror of the moment engulfs me and I wrap my arms around my stomach, willing my insides not to evaporate. Life is not a game. 427 fathers, brothers, sons. All dead because the capitol wouldn't spare the money to make the twelve hours a day they spend in the filthy underbelly of the district to keep their families alive _safe_. Suddenly a terrible thought enters my searing brain. The other King. Gale Hawthorne's gruff, kind father. The man who found me and led me home as my own parents slept soundly. He came from the Seam, he must have been a miner. The memory of that day years ago plays on my mind often. His handsome grey eyes crinkled with laughter, his booming laugh, his abrasive son. His _son_. I hadn't spoken to Gale since the day he found me in the strawberries but I knew he had two brothers and another sibling on the way. In my mind's eye I see his beautiful mother, heavy with pregnancy smiling easily as she collected laundry from the townspeople. I never saw the King again, despite searching for his broad frame when I visited the woods. My thoughts send a panic signal to my brain and I fly through the door, snatching a long piece of paper from my surprised father's hand. It's what I expected...names. My eyes fly past the unfamiliar names sending silent prayers to the heavens. Birch, Carstairs, Clarkson, Darkwood, Everdeen, Grey...Hawthorne. My hand flies to my mouth as I read and reread the block capitols "HAWTHORNE, DYLAN : DEAD". It has to be him. I thrust the paper back to my Dad who's now sobbing softly into his hands. I can't look at him any longer, so I run outside to find a place where the world isn't crashing down around my ears.

_Gale's P.O.V (two days later)_

Everything is different now. My life was never a game, but it was never a horror story. Now the reality of my father's death lingers like the shadows beneath my eyes. His eyes. We all have his eyes, Rory, Vick and I. Maybe the new baby with have Mum's hazel eyes...her namesake. _The new baby_. My head falls into my hands as I realise this new little human will never know its father. Vick's too young to understand really, but Rory is angry. Angrier than I've ever seen him. So am I, but I'm numb. I can't cry, I can't shout. All I can do is let my mind race. All I can do is remember.

Folding myself into one of the hard kitchen chairs of our home I remember the memorial ceremony that took place yesterday as though it were an abstract dream. The mayor could barely get through his speech, stuttering and stammering over apologies that would never ever be enough. I remember briefly thinking of his daughter, and how she made my father laugh. Her azure blue eyes gazing at him and I. My mind snapped back to the present when my name was called, and I walked up to silently accept the District 12 medal of honour thinking numbly how little my father would appreciate it. He always said the honour of a man lay in how he treated his family and those who could do nothing for him, not in gold or silver. The only precious item he ever kept was his grandfather's old watch, and the only precious item he ever bought was a tiny gold heart necklace as an engagement present for my mother. I smiled slightly at how my father had always joked that it was the only reason my Mum had agreed to marry his sorry ass. I remember looking at my mother who was watching silently, one arm inexplicably around both of my sobbing brothers, and the other around her swollen belly. A single tear carving a line down her worn but beautiful face. Before he left for work that last day, he had kept her laughing right through breakfast and kissed her before he left laying a hand on her belly with a tenderness that had made me avert my eyes in embarrassment. She was still smiling when we left for school three hours later. I'm grateful for my mother's strength, I'm just sorry she has to use it to mourn my father.

I've accepted my new role. It's the least I can do for him. For them. I will hunt every day, and they will never starve while I draw breath. I will do my best to be a father figure for my brothers and the new baby. I wring my hands and feel sick to my stomach as I realise I will never be the man my father was, no matter what I say, do or catch. Our small house is full of mourners. Women and children gathering to hold each other together in the face of unthinkable tragedy. I catch my mother's eye and she nods, knowing what I need. Looking away feeling selfish I run out the door before I can stop myself. I need a moment. A moment to gather my thoughts and plan how to feed my family for the next week or so. I head to the one place I can breathe.

Once I am across the fence, I retrieve the bows my father hid in a hollow oak. The ones he retrieved every year on my Birthday to teach me how to hunt and set snares. I'm not a great shot like him, but my eyes easily find clever snare opportunities and I know many edible berries and herbs that I can gather. The snares I set yesterday yield two rabbits. I'm pleased but I know it's not enough so I hunt for a few hours until I catch a wild dog to sell to Greasy Sae in the Hob. I shudder at the thought of entering the Hob alone. My father had always been there, gripping my shoulder to steer me through the rush of people.

I stride back towards the fence when I see large grey clouds rolling towards me, trying desperately to feel. I haven't even cried. As a general rule, Hawthorne men don't cry. But I'm pretty sure my Dad would understand my need to come undone...just once. I'm lost in black thoughts when my eyes fall on something unimaginably beautiful. A girl, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chin in the same patch of strawberries my father found her in five years ago. She says nothing so I don't either. She's bigger now of course, gangly like a filly with too much leg to know what to do with. When I sit next to her, her head is parallel only to my shoulder. We sit in strangely comfortable silence. The heavens open as I remember my father's gruff hug and something inside me breaks. I feel a dampness on my cheeks that has nothing to do with the rain soaking us to the skin. She says nothing but grasps my hand in her tiny one, laying her golden head on my shoulder. She smells of wildflowers. I don't know how long we sat in silence, allowing the rain to drench us. Minutes, hours, years later I stand, offering my hand to the strange creature beside me. Her eyes meet mine and she takes it, pulling herself up. We walk in silence back to the fence. She shivers and I curse myself for not having a jacket to drape across hr thin shoulders. I don't know how but we end up outside my house. I begin to walk towards town, remembering bitterly my Dad's policy on walking girls home. She catches my arm to stop me and shakes her head. Her large blue eyes drifting to my house showing me silently that she understands I have to get back inside. I nod gratefully and she gives a small smile, a shadow of the radiant beam she was sporting the last time we met. I watch her for a moment, picking her way across the uneven dirt path back to her castle and then turn back to my house. I walk up the stairs, finally feeling strong enough to look my brothers in the eye and tell them that everything is going to be all right.

_Madge's P.O.V_

For the next two weeks I sneak out at night and leave enough food for the next day on the Hawthorne's front porch. I cook for hours, poring apologies, sympathy and prayers for comfort into whatever I can think to make, knowing that this is the least I can do. On the fifteenth day, I sneak up their few steps to find the basket I leave full and collect empty lies untouched. Puzzled I grab the small piece of paper attached to the ribbon on the handle.

"_Dear kind neighbour,_

_I cannot thank you enough for the gifts you have given my family this past week. I am grateful that I have been able to comfort my family, friends and myself during this unbearable week without having to think of meals. However, I can no longer accept your anonymous generosity without some sort of payment. Please please come in and introduce yourself. Give me the opportunity to embrace you as a friend and thank you in person for all you have done. We have tried to catch you for the past week but you are very clever! I hope to meet you soon and perhaps do your laundry for free for the next few months to repay the debt we owe. Please do not leave us any more food, you have done more than enough._

_-Hazelle"_

My heart sinks. What can this woman possibly think she owes me? I decide immediately that they can never know it was the Mayor's daughter who has been leaving them food. Despite our strange, silent meeting a few weeks ago I am as sure as ever that Gale Hawthorne hates me. He avoids my eyes in school as though they will burn through him like acid. With one last glance at the little house that still radiates love, I turn away and don't return.

_Katniss P.O.V (One year later)_

My new hunting partner Gale, is being infuriating as usual.

"Gale, these strawberries could fetch a fortune, what's your problem?" His grip on my arm tightens.

"Just leave them Catnip, we have enough for the day" I bristle at the annoying nickname he's given me and wonder briefly why I don't still hunt on my own. Then my eyes catch the two fox pelts swinging from his belt, pets from animals caught by his snares and I remember. I need him. I take a step back from the strawberry patch and swallow my argument. He gives me a little smirk.

"Who would we even sell them to? No one in the Hob has money to spare for fruit."  
>"I know that!" I snap, then sigh. "I was thinking of the Mayor."<p>

"What?" he splutters. "Catnip, what have you been smoking? Do you WANT to get flayed alive?"

"Listen Gale, I'm kind of friends with the Mayor's daughter and she says she's willing to buy any fruit we find." He freezes.

"Madge?"

"Yes" I reply carefully, cocking my head and wondering how on earth he knows her name. He hates all townsfolk with a passion. His face contorts into his usual frown and after a few minutes though he bites out,

"Fine. Here, I have a bag." We stoop and collect the ripe fruit in a few minutes flat.

We stand and pick our way silently through the trees. A barking laugh suddenly escapes his throat. I glare at him.

"What now?"

"I'm just imagining you having a friend! Hahaha"

"Shut up Gale."

This only makes him laugh harder and he continues to tease me until we reach the Mayor's back door. Now it's my turn.

"Scared Hawthorne?"

"Course not Catnip" he grins impudently. The smirk is wiped off his face when the door opens to reveal a blushing girl. Madge. I smile awkwardly at her.

"Hey Madge, remember our conversation about the fruit?" Her eyes aren't on mine, they are fixed on Gale as his are on her. I watch confused for a few moment before I realise she must be wondering who the hulking great boy on her back porch is.

"Oh, sorry. This is Gale" They stare at each other for a few moments and I'm about to ask them what the heck their problem is when her eyes drop to her feet and her face turns bright red.

"Like the wind." She murmurs. He stares at her like a dope and I've finally had enough.

"We brought strawberries, Madge. Would you like some?

"Oh! Yes please. Hang on a second." She returns with a generous amount of coins and I grin my thanks, handing over the bag of fruit.  
>"Thanks" she mutters, as though she hasn't just bought us a week's worth of bread.<p>

"Sure" I reply, dragging Gale back down the path. Once the door shuts he turns around, scowling.

"What was that all about?" I ask.

"Nothing" he mutters.

_**A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this nearly as much as I enjoyed writing it, thank you for reading and please review! It means a lot to me to know you thoughts, and truly helps. A HUGE thank you again to everyone who has reviewed and subscribed so far, you are all lovely!**_


	4. The Cautioners

_**A/N: Thank you for your kind words in the reviews, and particularly to those who have consistently reviewed. It's so great to hear from the same people to see how they feel it's progressing. This chapter is set three years after the end of "Call It In The Air". Gale is now 17 and Madge is 15. Just out of curiosity, has anyone noticed what band I've taken the story title and chapter headings from? Listening to the song that the story title is from inspired me to start writing this!**_

Chapter 4: Cautioners

_Gale's P.O.V_

As I saunter into the dining hall at school I curse my eyes for scanning the room for a familiar face. For her. Her blonde head is easily spotted, being the only one amongst a sea of browns and reds. I stopped searching for her among the other townies a while ago. I smile as Catnip (grudgingly as ever) smiles at something Madge says then lets out a harsh barking laugh. I stare, realising I'd never heard her laugh before. Not in all three years of being my hunting partner had she ever truly laughed. The sound made me smirk. It was so...Catnip. My eyes follow the delicate movements of pale piano playing hands as they reach up to tie unruly blonde curls into a ribbon. She's a townie. I hate her. But I can't deny that there's something inexplicably endearing about the way she hunches over her book, blue eyes wide from trying to squint around the golden strands partially obscuring her vision. She munches absentmindedly on an apple and my heart contracts as I remember why I can't seem to stop my eyes from searching rooms for her slight frame. She knows too much. Somehow, three years ago I allowed my soul to be laid bare to the gangly little Mayor's daughter, and her piercing blue eyes seem to have taken more than I had voluntarily given. I raise my eyebrows as Catnip leans over and engages her in conversation. I almost want to break into applause. Poor Catnip is a great shot and a fierce hunter, but she never could understand humans. Yet here she is with her one friend besides me, chatting away. I allow myself a smile at the thought of how I'm not the only one those azure eyes have coaxed out of stoicism. The thought slips away and I place a scowl on my face just as Madge instinctually raises her gaze to meet mine. She smiles sadly before dropping her eyes back to the large volume propped on her drawn up knees and I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

_Madge's P.O.V_

I startle at the sound of Katniss' abrupt cackle in reaction to my dry description of my English Literature teacher's penchant for chewing gum and shouting. A combination that resulted in a definite 'say it don't spray it' situation. I don't think I've ever heard her laugh before, and she looks just as shocked as I do as well as a little red round the ears. I smile at her warmly, hoping to convey how much I enjoy her quiet presence. We talk, but we don't chatter. I remember my intense relief when we got through our first lunch without saying a word about boys, dresses or any of the other things our female peers deem important. It's not that we're above it or anything, it's just that neither of us are particularly girly. I'm a music obsessed book nerd and she's a grouchy hunter. Neither of us fit in anywhere except our quiet little lunch table for two. I munch on my apple absentmindedly, hoping she knows that I consider her a friend. My favourite thing about Katniss is that she doesn't care about our wildly different upbringings. We've worked together on many assignments and eat lunch together daily but she has never once mentioned my father's job. It's incredibly refreshing to be seen as Madge rather than just the Mayor's brat.

My mind wanders to my father, hoping desperately that nothing has happened to upset him this morning. He's been so on edge lately. For the past three years since the mining accident he's been applying pressure to various factions of the Capitol government, campaigning for better safety mechanisms in the mines. He's never been the same since that day, I know he blames himself. Recently I overheard my Dad telling his general that he has been receiving threats. At first from government officials; simple 'sit down you're rocking the boat' letters, then calls from President Snow's personal assistant passing on thinly veiled threats against my mother and I. I shudder, wondering what he meant. I somehow feel a pair of eyes on me, and sure enough when I abandon my huge copy of Shakespeare's sonnets my gaze meets Gale Hawthorne's perpetual glare. I smile sadly, wishing his hunting partners tolerance of undeserved wealth would rub off on his sharp features and sharper tongue.

_Gale's P.O.V_

I wake up that Sunday with an energy that propels me out of bed and into the woods before 6am, climbing trees to keep my mind from wandering while I wait for Catnip to get here. She arrives a couple of hours later and I suggest that we take the strawberries straight to the Mayor's house before starting to hunt. She agrees with a puzzled frown and we begin the walk back to the fence.

By the time we reach the Mayor's back porch, I'm furious with myself. Why am I so eager to drag Catnip out of the forest to sell fruit to an unnervingly quiet book worm of a girl who will never see us anything more than filthy Seam rats? I only end up insulting her whenever we come here anyway. I turn to Catnip to suggest we just leave it 'til later when the door opens. Instead of the usual red faced tornado there stands a tall, portly looking man with large glasses and a pocket watch. Our jaws drop. The mayor never answers the door. Catnip turns to face me, eyes wild, gesturing frantically for me to hide the strawberries we brought for his infuriating daughter. He stares at us for a moment then speaks.

"Oh of course! You must be Madge's friends, the ones who bring those delicious strawberries."

"Er...yeah." I stammer, earning a grimace from Katniss. I can tell she's sure we're about to get arrested or worse.

"Well how much? I'd be happy to buy them in her stead." He says, a little sadly. Katniss seems to recover from her fright and asks the question running through my own mind at an alarming rate.

"In her stead?"

The sorrow in his eyes is now unmistakable. He refuses to meet my eyes as I search his face for any hint that the strawberry girl is hurt or sick.

"Yes. She has gone to study Music and Literature at Capitol University." Katniss gasps.

"She never said anything about applying or being accepted, she didn't even say goodbye!" I hear the wounded tone of her voice as it echoes through my own thoughts.

"Her departure was...abrupt." His eyes meet mine this time, and the way he says 'abrupt' makes me suspect he also means 'unwillingly so'. Confused I simply say,

"Three silver coins. She usually gives us three silver coins" he raises his eyebrows but silently reaches for his wallet. We exchange the goods and all three of us stand awkwardly, staring at our shoes. Finally Katniss speaks up, which is unlike her.

"When will she be back?"To our horror his eyes fill with tears as we hover awkwardly.

"I'm not sure she will be, dear. Keep bringing the strawberries please." He murmurs, and shuts the door. We stand, stunned, staring at the Undersee's back door for the next few minutes. I look down at Katniss and she's wringing her hands. I've known her long enough to know that this means she's worried. I try to think of words to comfort my abrupt hunting partner but I can't bring myself to believe that we will ever see the Mayor's oddly charming daughter ever again. The realisation bothers me more than I will ever admit.

_**A/N: This is shorter than originally intended, but there seemed to be a pretty pronounced break between this part of the original single chapter and the next (a whole year!) So I stopped here. The next chapter will follow soon and will be normal length. Thanks for reading!**_


	5. Clarity

_**A/N: A huge thank you again to everyone who is reading and reviewing! It literally makes my day, you guys are awesome. Special thanks (and a shiny gold star) for celeq who spotted the Jimmy Eat World references! All the chapter titles are names of songs from their various albums and the title is the first line from the song "Work" on the album "Futures". Apologies for the shameless fan plug, hope you enjoy the chapter! **_

_**Disclaimer: The "I minded" and "Pretty dress" conversations are lifted from the books, all credit goes to the brilliant Suzanne Collins.**_

Chapter 5: Clarity

_One year later, the day before the Reaping for the 74__th__ Annual Hunger Games..._

_Madge's P.O.V_

As the hover train pulls up to the District 12 station, I grip the arms of my seat and heave a long sigh of relief. I step off and hear my polished heels click onto the grey, coal dusted concrete. Breathing in deeply, I think to myself that coal, sweat and baking hot sun never smelt so good. I'm home. The idiot with the green hair my Capitol Uni mentor sent to accompany me moves to grab my bags as soon as they magically appear at my sides. I slap his hand away. It's rude but I'm no delicate flower, and if the last year has taught me anything, it's that it's dangerous to let people assume you are. Hugging him quickly I tell him to get back to the Capitol where he belongs. He stands around wringing his hands and eventually stammers,

"B-but Madge...darling...are you quite sure you won't change your mind? Professor Merriweather swears that if I return alone from this little jaunt, your place on the Music programme will be filled!" Tears gather in his golden eyes for dramatic affect and I roll my eyes, used to this popular Capitol technique.

"No, Raph. Here is where I belong. There's a lot of work to be done here in D12" I pat his shoulder and turn to leave but his magenta stained hand grips my shoulder. When he sees the look in my eyes he drops it, but whines in a whisper,

"Oh but Madge, the Reaping! It's tomorrow, you'll be forced to take part!"

I smirk and turn on my heel calling over my shoulder.

"Of course I will Raph. I'm counting on it." I wink as he splutters, giving me one last wounded look whilst easing himself back onto the hover train. My eyes drift to the clear blue skies as I pick up my two suitcases and stroll towards my old house. I take a detour through the Seam, hoping to catch a glimpse of my friend Katniss Everdeen, the one person I regretted not being able to say goodbye to. Images of my violent departure from District 12 flash behind my eyelids and I shudder. The shudder turns into a shiver and I realise I'm getting cold. As reluctant as I am to return to my parents I begin the walk to town, still clutching a heavy suitcase in each hand. I redden as I notice the eyes of the Seam residents burning holes into my body. I realise with a blush how conspicuous I must look, lugging two huge bags still in the make up the Capitol Uni stylist forced me to wear, my blonde curls dancing around my shoulders in the high wind. Even my eyes seem like foreign blue beacons amongst the deep, beautiful grey characteristic to this part of 12. Their eyes are not unkind, just wary as always. I raise my eyes once more catching various birds of prey mid-swoop and breathe in the sight, sound and smell of the world I know and love. The world I belong to, whether they know it or not. My Dad greets me at the door with a loud cry and large grasping arms. With a heartless sigh I step out of reach of his welcoming arms. I remember the night I was dragged from my bed and sent merrily off to the Capitol for a 'week-long campus tour'. I remember that he lied to me and let me go. The look in his eyes nearly shatters my newfound resolve but all it takes is a few choice memories from my horrific year and I harden like water into ice. I clomp upstairs and dump my bags into a now unfamiliar room. The panic I feel at not remembering my own life dissipates when I enter the attic. My hand ghosts over my weathered piano. It's not much to look at compared to the flashy ones I've been playing all year but each note, nook and cranny is like family. I finger the bookshelves, accounting for every title I'd left behind. I'm intensely grateful that my copy of "1984" hadn't been able to fit in the small 'one week' bag I packed. It's one of the many books the Capitol either bans or rearranges until its less inflammatory and almost completely unrecognisable.

As I sit in front of the little desk mirror, wiping of what I swear will be the last makeup I ever wear, I savour how well I now know the face that stares back. There's no more confusion about who I am. Perhaps it was the time I've had to grow up, and perhaps it was the constant threat of living under the government's watchful eye but I no longer have to wonder about my identity. My name is Madge Undersee, I am 17 years old tomorrow. I live in District 12. Last year I was wrenched from everything I knew and loved and transported to a world where body modification, lying and torture are acceptable aspects of life. I believe in a free Panem and I will do anything to set the Districts free. I'm only one girl. Just one insignificant girl, but I now know my place in this world. What I will live for, and ultimately die for. My eyes sparkle as I brush my newly shoulder length blonde curls. There is no trace of fear in their azure depths, just determination and _fire_.

_Gale's P.O.V_

I amble through the Hob wondering how I could ever have been intimidated by the place. Everyone shouts greetings and jokes (usually at my expense) and ask after my catch. I hold up a wild dog and two pheasants and gain a little round of applause as well as a loud shout of "DIBS ON THE DOG!" from Greasy Sae. I laugh heartily. This is home. I scan the room for Katniss, hoping she managed to sell the pelts we gathered from some dead baby rabbits we found earlier. I eventually catch her brown braid flying round the corner of the exit and out into the sun. I follow, greeting her with a cheery "Hey Catnip". She simply grunts and hands over a portion of some sloppy creation of Greasy Sae's. I grin remembering it was indeed her turn to buy the stew, as we do every time we get a good haul. I'm about to start discussing how we'll spend the coins between our families (I need to campaign for some new shoes for Rory) when a red-headed peacekeeper saunters up and tweaks her braid.

"Alright Kat?" he drawls.

"It's Katniss. And Hi." She growls grudgingly. I laugh and offer my hand, sensing this guy mustn't be a threat if he's hanging out at the Hob.

"Hey man, I'm Gale. I hunt with this ray of sunshine."

"Ah I see, good to meet you. My name's Darius, I just finished my training in 2 and I got stuck here for my probationary year. Sod's law!" he laughs, gesturing to his uniform. _Finally_, I think. A peacekeeper with a sense of humour. They're all so serious that it's a bit like finding a unicorn. We talk for a while longer as Katniss glares at us, gulping down her stew. At one point, he reaches down to fiddle with a rabbit skin at her belt, and she slaps his hand away.  
>"Easy Kat, I'm just checking out the merchandise."<p>

"What, you want to trade?" she yes him warily.

"Might do." He shrugs.

"What are you offering? These are fine pelts, no arrow holes and they're well cleaned"

"Well..." he waggles his eyebrows and steps close to her, lowering his comically puckered lips, and as soon as she realises she lets out a yelp, darting a few paces off to the side.

"Darius!" she admonishes dramatically.

"Sorry Kat, but my kisses fetch a pretty penny in D2, I thought you were a trader?"

"Yeah in furs, not lip wrestling." She hisses.

He's now laughing uncontrollably. I chuckle, but feel a little strange. No guy has ever taken an interest in Katniss before, she's too abrasive for most guys. I just laugh it off and keep talking. It's only as I walk alone back to the Seam that I realise something confusing...I minded.

_(the next day...)_

It's Sunday today, Reaping day. After Katniss and I spend the morning in the woods, we head towards town to sell strawberries to the Mayor before going home to dress for the Reaping. I was angrier than usual today in the woods. Katniss had merely smirked and listened silently to my incensed ranting. As we walk in silence my mind drifts to the moment yesterday at the Hob when for the first time ever, I wondered whether I saw Catnip as more than a friend. I stare at her from the corner of my eye, trying to pay attention to the individual components of the familiar face. She's pretty, I decide. I search my memory for some moment that stole my breath or drew me inexplicably close to her. One day where I just needed to be near her for no good reason at all, but I can't think of even one. So why was I bothered about Darius teasing her about a kiss? Do I want to kiss her? I look down at my good friend and feel no particular inclination. I suppose I always assumed we would grow to love each other someday, despite her feelings about marriage and children. Everyone else assumes it too. We are the same, her and I, cut from the same cloth. She is already my family, and a life as her hunting partner is the one certainty my future holds in this uncertain world. I look down at her once more and decide with a sigh that no, I do not want Katniss. However, I believe with equal certainty that someday I will. We reach the Mayor's back porch and I brace myself for the onslaught of memories attached to this house and its residents. It's been almost a year but still I can't seem to forget the strawberry girl and all that lay behind her searing eyes. The thought makes me angry as usual, and I find my face settle into the comfortable angle of a scowl as the Mayor opens the door, promptly tripping on the doorframe and landing in a heap at our feet. Only...it's not the Mayor.

The piercing eyes that gaze up at us sheepishly are framed by a familiar and infuriatingly beautiful face. My traitorous heart hammers in my chest as she stands shakily, brushing at her knees and swiping golden hair from her eyes. A few strands stick up and I feel a desperate urge to reach my hand out to her and smooth them down. Instead I ball my calloused fingers into a fist and take a step back to drink in a very different Madge Undersee from the gangly fifteen year old I remember from last year. She moves to embrace Katniss, laughing excitedly and apologising for her adorable clumsiness. As she moves I note a change in the way she carries herself. There are obvious differences l find such as the shorter hair that frames her pretty face, legs she seems to have finally grown into and the beginnings of curves that make my throat feel dry. But the difference that grips my chest with an iron fist is the fire in her ever present eyes that I am positive I have never seen light the blue depths before now. She moves away from Katniss and turns to me. For a mad moment I almost think she is moving to embrace me too, but she shuffles backwards onto a higher step and begins to answer questions for Catnip, all while her eyes are trained on mine as though searching for something important. All I can do is stare while they talk. I catch words like "horrible", "Capitol scum" and "so sorry", but I am too confused to pay much attention. Reconciling this woman with the girl who once left me with a strange sense of longing is proving difficult for my early morning brain.

After a few minutes of confused want, the pieces fall together. Madge Undersee spent a year in the Capitol at University studying Music and Literature (not just books). My insides suddenly coil in anger. No wonder she's different. She's one of them now. She might be back in D12 for now, but women like her don't wind up here married to a miner, working as a seamstress to make ends meet. No. She has something none of us here truly have...a real future and a chance to make something herself. It's a mixture of that moment and her elegant, delicate beauty that reminds me why she will never look at me the way I look at her. I take in her appearance once more, training my eyes to find flaws in this girl who could do anything, have anyone. I tell myself she's stuck up. She thinks she's too good for the Districts. Too good for 12. Too good for Katniss, and too good for me. When she reaches a delicate hand up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear I give up and lash out.

"_Pretty dress_," I sneer, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

Katniss shoots me a look that says she disapproves but I ignore her. Despite myself, my heart contracts when Madge blushes and I thank Panem that her time in the Capitol hadn't killed that particular, perfect trait. To my surprise her eyes flash dangerously but she regains composure and tries for an easy smile.

"Well, if I end up going to the Capitol I want to look nice don't I?" I bristle at her tone. She's making light of the lap of luxury in which our oppressors lounge. My eyes fall on a flash of gold fixed to her pristine white dress. On closer inspection I decide, horrified, that it's real gold. A fine thing to wear to the Reaping, I snort. Doesn't she know it would keep a Seam family in bread for weeks?

"You won't be going to the Capitol. What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old." Her eyes don't pity me as I'd expected, they simply meet mine, unmoving as if to say 'Are you finished?'

"That's not her fault." Katniss snaps, pulling me out of my simmering rage. She usually just lets me be, I must have been pretty rude to elicit a verbal intervention. Slightly cowed by the looks on both of their faces I dig my shoe into the dirt.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is."

_Madge's P.O.V_

Frustrated, I lean against the door for a long moment after I shut it on the scowling face of a boy I barely know. I thought we might have had...something that resembled friendship. But as usual, the politics of any Seam/Town relationship – even platonic – is overshadowed by the disparity in wealth. It's not that I blame him. My dress is ridiculous, but it was mean of him to say so. I press a hand to my flushed cheek and frown, wondering why the mysterious hunter with the kind father is the only one able to disturb my newfound inner peace. I nettle, as I remember his reminder of the fact that I have never had to take out tesserae. I laugh without humour, wishing I could have wiped that smirk off his face by telling him about the 150 name slips I snuck into the town collection box this morning. If only Gale knew that it I am indeed planning on returning to the Capitol. As a tribute.

_**A/N: I took a bit of artistic liberty with the "I minded" scene (I think it's supposed to be six months prior to the reaping) hope this isn't too offputting. Also in case there is any confusion this is DEFINATELY still a Gadge fic! I just think his feelings for Katniss, whatever they were, are significant to Gale and Madge and how I think their relationship could have progressed. Hope you liked it! As usual, please sound off in the reviews, I love to hear what you think!**_


	6. Firestarter

_**A/N: I wasn't sure at first if I wanted to do the Reaping as it's such a difficult scene to write well, but I think it's unavoidable in this particular story. I hope it's alright! Thanks again to those reading and reviewing. It's very kind of you to keep letting me know your thoughts and opinions, I truly appreciate it and try to keep them in mind when I write. Hope you enjoy chapter 6!**_

_**Disclaimer: The conversations in the Justice building expand on and directly quote the work of the ever brilliant Suzanne Collins, I take no credit.**_

Chapter 6: Firestarter

_Earlier that day..._

"_Madge?" I ignore the familiar voice and the soft knocking._

"_Madge...please?" I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep, but still I feel the mattress depress as my father sits next to me on the bed and lays a hand on my back._

"_I know you're upset Madge, you have a right to be. I don't know what they said to you in the Capitol but no matter what they told you, we tried everything to stop them from taking you." His pathetic little speech made with the voice that used to make me feel safe is enough to propel me upwards. If I'm leaving to go to my death today, I want some answers._

"_You tried everything?" I spit. "No Dad, you tried everything that wouldn't interfere with your position as Mayor. They told me everything."  
>"What Madge? What did they tell you?" he pleads, reaching for my arm. I jerk it away.<em>

"_Enough." I reply. He sighs and reaches into his pocket. He holds out his downturned hand.  
>"Here, Madge. Your mother and I wanted you to have this. We planned on giving it to you on your sixteenth but..." <em>

"_...but you'd already sold me down the river so I was unavailable for gift exchanges?" I finish nastily. He simply sighs again._

"_It's better this way Madge. You know what this means now. Whether you believe us or not, we worried about you and missed you every day. You were never alone in the Capitol, Madge," He's right I wasn't alone, but that wasn't even close to his doing. _

"_Happy Birthday sweetheart," He drops something on my bed then gets up to leave. I don't even glance at what he's left until I finally drag myself out of bed to get ready. Katniss will be here soon. My eyes are drawn to a little gold pin, burnished but delicate with an image of a very familiar bird taking flight inside a perfect circle. Its sharp sparkling contrast to my pristine white sheets is difficult to resist so I pick it up. My heart stops. The Mockingjay! I have to clench my fists to stop myself from running to my father and demanding an explanation. What are my parents doing with a symbol of the rebellion? Surely they know what it means? My few friends in the Capitol, brave people risking everything to infiltrate the government, have miniscule tattoos of the very same bird somewhere on their person. A Mockingjay is the ultimate sign of the Capitol's flaws and the Districts' strength. I clasp the little pin in my fist, fighting back tears. They know what I have planned, and they approve. No one is going to stop me, they are letting me go. This is why I volunteered! I chide myself silently, swiping angrily at my tears. I am the only one whose death will mean nothing to the living. I dress quickly and pin the golden Mockingjay over my heart, hoping my life will be of some use yet. It will be a signal to my friends in the Capitol, a signal that I will follow through. Then the doorbell rings... _

_Madge's P.O.V_

As my classmates and I shuffle along to the Square like cows to the slaughter, I do the maths one more time. My name is in the Reaping bowl 150 times. That was how many we felt we could get away with without being caught. It was rare for girls to have to take out tesserae, and as far as I know Katniss is the only one. Her name will be in 20 times this year. I had hoped to sneak some slips out, but I'd had to accept that there was no way of opening the box in my father's office. There is simply a tiny slot in the cast iron case, only wide enough for one slip at a time. My heart jumps with worry then I realise with a grim smile that the odds are most definitely in my favour.

We line up just as that ridiculous pink cream puff of a woman Effie Trinket staggers onto the stage in six-inch heels.

As she taps the microphone and begins to speak, I let my eyes wander. They land inexplicably on a surly hunter. I've noticed his looks before of course (along with every other girl in the District) but in this moment my breath hitches at the sight of him. He looks as angry as I feel, but there's something gentle I've never noticed about his imposing stature. His muscular arms rest on top of each other in front of his chest and his back is ramrod straight. Every angle of his features screams defiance. A shiver runs down my spine as his face jerks upwards, chin jutting out - a gesture I remember from our strange first meeting. The fire that dances behind his steel grey eyes gives me hope that when I'm gone, things will change. I try to breathe normally as I will him to turn and fix me with one last glare. The way he's always done, the way that makes me feel guilty and angry but so _alive._

I reluctantly jerk my own eyes back to Effie when she says the words I've waited to hear for almost an entire year...

"Ladies first!" I move my legs outwards to parallel my shoulders and straighten my back. Gale is right; this is no time to look scared. I close my eyes as she reaches into the huge glass bowl, swirls her hand dramatically then grabs a slip. I let my mind's eye wander to my strawberry patch in the woods. The one place I have ever felt safe...

"PRIMROSE EVERDEEN" she annunciates in her ridiculous accent.

My mind races and the ground seems to sway underneath my feet.

No, no, no, NO! How can this be happening? Prim is only 12 and I know for a fact Katniss would never let her take out tesserae. I had 150 slips in that bowl. Primrose Everdeen had 1!

I pull myself together and start pushing to the front. There's nothing for it, I have to volunteer. The people of District 1 will lose no more girls to the Capitol's greed, especially not sweet little Prim.

It takes a moment to register the loud screams coming from far in front of me, but they chill me to my very bones.

"Stop! I...I volunteer!"

I swear for a moment my heart stops. I know that voice...

It's Katniss. My brain can't seem to register the fact that I have failed, and that the person who will take my place is one of the people I was most trying to protect. I struggle frantically the rest of the way to the front just in time to see Gale Hawthorne scoop up a screaming Prim and carry her off to her mother. My heart aches at the sight of the pain twisting his beautiful face and I would do anything to stop those heartbreaking cries but I know the rules...there are no second volunteers. I fight the darkness crowding behind my eyes to keep standing whilst the male tribute is chosen, registering numbly that it is the kindest Town boy I know, Peeta Mellark. He and Katniss shake hands and I can't help but wish that I was trapped inside a terrible nightmare brought on my some dark fairytale from the gold trim book. It's supposed to be me up there! The one girl in the whole district whose death no one would mourn. Not her...not the brave, grumpy huntress from the Seam with a family that loves her, a best friend and District-wide respect. My heart almost breaks as they salute her in our own special way, a gesture that speaks of pain and regret. Soon it's all over and I turn to leave. All at once my brain snaps back into action mode and I begin to think of something, _anything_ I can do for her now. Suddenly it grips me and I run full pelt to the Justice building, my fear, anger and hatred propelling me faster than I ever remember moving.

_Gale's P.O.V_

I pace outside the room they're holding her in as I wait for her mother and sister's time to be up. My fingers drag over and over through my hair as I desperately try to piece myself together enough to be strong for her. How can this be happening? Anger skids through my veins like a speeding car as I realise the unavoidable truth...she's going to die in there. It's with this impossible thought that I'm thrust into a tiny room where my best friend sits with her head in her hands.

"Hey Catnip" I manage. Her head snaps up and she moves to hug me. I'm surprised because she usually disdains affection but I hold her at arms length anyway, fixing my eyes on hers.

"You're stronger than they are Catnip, all they want is a good show," she stares back despondently.

"There are 24 of us Gale, only one comes out."

I can't think of anything to say to that so I give her shoulders a shake until she meets my eyes again.

"Get a bow, Catnip. If there isn't one at the Cornucopia, make one. You have the advantage over them all when it comes to survival. You can hunt, and find roots and herbs" She visibly lets out a breath and bows her head. Suddenly it snaps up and her eyes are wild.

"Don't let them starve Gale! Please, look after them!" I don't need to ask who.

"Of course, Catnip." I whisper. I'm unsure of what to say next but I'm not given the chance to think anymore because a peacekeeper barges through the door, grabbing me as I embrace my best friend one last time. As I'm halfway out the door I shout,

"Remember I..." the door slams before I can finish. I let the Peacekeeper frog march me out of the building and throw me into the dirt. All I can think of is what I would have said, and it surprises me to realise that I have no idea. I believe in you? I'll miss you? I wish I could take your place? _I love you? _My face burns with rage as I realise that all but the last are true. I love her, of course I do, but I'm not _in_ love with her. The Capitol has stolen something I never thought they could touch. They have stolen my chance at a future alongside my best friend, the chance to find out whether I could have loved her as more than just my hunting partner. I hate them for so much. But I hate them most of all for stealing the future I had expected for us, the future that everyone had expected. I pick myself up to find the Peacekeeper that threw me out and punch him in the face when I collide with something soft. Madge Undersee hits the ground like a sack of potatoes then scrambles to her feet gripping my arm. To my horror, despite everything my heart contracts at the sight of her eyes piercing mine the way they always do. She startles me from my guilt by giving me a shake and gasping,

"Gale, where is she? They haven't taken her away yet have they?" I'm so surprised to see her here that all I can do is point. With a small nod she flies at breakneck speed through the doors and disappears from my sight.

_Madge's P.O.V_

I fly through the familiar building to the tiny room I know they put the tributes in to see their friends and family. I hope I qualify. Katniss and I never spoke about being friends, not really. There were no friendship bracelets, linked arms or whispered secrets, just company. I run quicker than ever, desperate to get to the one person I have ever truly considered a friend. I reach the door and a peacekeeper bars my entry before realising he's manhandling his boss' daughter and lets me through. She's pacing and wringing her hands, both clear signs of worry. Her head snaps up as I enter and widen, she clearly wasn't expecting me. It hardly matters now, so I close the distance between us and hug her, trying to pour warmth and comfort into this small exchange. She says nothing so I begin, stepping away so I can meet her eyes. I unceremoniously rip my Mockingjay from the shoulder of my pristine white dress and hold it out to her.

"Every tribute is allowed one token in the arena, one thing to remind them of home. Will you take this and wear it in the arena?" She just stares at my hand looking confused. I want so badly to explain it to her, to explain that it belonged to my Aunt Maysilee who was a tribute too. I want to explain about the Mockingjay and how I'm praying that friends of the rebellion in the Capitol will see it and sponsor her but there isn't time. Plus, I think bitterly, the whole Justice Building is bugged. So I simply kiss her quickly on the cheek.

"Please Katniss, please wear it into the arena," she's still staring at it in my hand so I pin it to her dress. I give her one last hug, which she returns tightly murmuring,  
>"Bye Madge"<p>

All too soon I'm escorted out and I dissolve into the furious tears I was holding back and take a moment to lean against a coal shed to regain composure. I run back to the Square to watch them leave, wondering vaguely how I'm supposed to start living a life I thought would be over before the week was up.

_Gale's P.O.V_

I stand with a wailing Posy wriggling in my arms trying desperately to catch a glimpse of Katniss boarding the hover train that will take her to her death. I refuse to watch, and instead search the sea of faces for some small sign of humanity left. All I see is useless sympathy and relief, relief that their own children have survived the Reaping for another year. Mrs Everdeen stares glassily at her daughter's departure and I pray to no one at all that she won't break the way Katniss told me she did after her husband's death. My own mother stands with a strong arm around her weak friend and I catch her eye, silently thanking her for her otherworldly resilience. My eyes then flicker down to Prim and the humanity I was searching for is plain in the eyes of the little girl who just lost the sister she loves more than anything. I manage a small smile as Rory pats her awkwardly on the shoulder until she buries her face in his shoulder. Catching a flash of white to my left, I turn to see Madge Undersee hugging her waist so tightly that it looks as though her arms are keeping her insides in place. When I take in her full appearance I realise that perhaps they are. Her dress is torn at the shoulder and her shoes are caked to the ankles in mud. There is a smudge of coal dust on her flushed cheek and her blonde hair is escaping a pink ribbon, sticking up at all angles. She looks even more beautiful dishevelled, more human than angel. It's her eyes that make my breath catch in my chest, making my throat immediately run dry. The embers I saw earlier in their blue depths have stoked themselves into a raging inferno, fixed on the departing train. Silent tears spill from between her thick lashes making tracks through the dirt on her face that cause the fire to shine in an unearthly way. I drag my eyes away, reminding myself that she is part of the reason my best friend is gone. What use is fire when it's caged by a life of untouchable privilege and a web of deceit? I catch my mother looking at me strangely so I round up the kids and begin to lead them home. As I'm trying to extricate my brother from Prim I catch a final picture of Katniss on the big screen, saluting the district by touching three fingers to her lips then raising them palm outwards towards the crowd. We answer silently in kind, and my gaze is drawn to a flash of gold at her chest. It's Madge's pin. Confused, I turn to confront her but...she's gone.

_Madge's P.O.V_

I sit in the kitchen, my frozen fingers wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. It started to rain heavily the moment Katniss left and I got caught in it. I'm staring out the window trying desperately to think of something useful to do when I see it...a dark figure in the half light of dusk, standing stock still in the middle of the storm. His eyes are wild and his dark hair flies around his sharp jaw. He's staring at my house. Without thinking I move breathlessly to the door and open it. To my surprise he's now at my bottom step and I move to the side, hoping he will see this as the invitation it is. I should be asking questions, but I don't. He steps in, dripping muddy water onto the cream carpet, and I smile at the thought of him ruining something in this stupidly decadent house. He always disdains delicate, perfect things...I think that's what I like about him. We stare at each other for a long moment until I eventually break the silence.

"Can I er...take your coat?"

"No." He frowns.

"Ok." I reply and walk upstairs, hoping he'll follow. He does, so I lead him up to the loft, the one place in the whole house that isn't bugged. I figured this out when my Dad took me up here aged 7 to explain why I couldn't take about the "evil Emperor Snow" anywhere else. When we get upstairs I sit on the piano stool and motion for him to occupy the only other seat in the room, an old squashy armchair beside my work desk. He sits and shakes his head like a dog, spraying muddy water everywhere. I hid another smile by retying my ribbon.

"I don't know why I'm here," he says eventually. I stare at him stupidly. Neither do I you weirdo, but I'm strangely glad you are.

"Why did she have your pin?"

"I gave it to her."

"Well obviously," he snaps. "But why?"

"She's my friend too, Gale." I say simply, shrugging.

He grunts, but seems to accept this. His eyes wander around the room and a creeping heat turns my face red. This room contains more of me than anywhere in the world. Everything I love is contained here, except the woods of course. I'm drifting into memories when I notice his eyes fixed to my left on the piano.

"I heard you play once," he mumbles gruffly. "It was nice."

"Er...thanks," I stammer, eyebrows practically at my hairline. Of all the things I'd expected him to say, that was not one of them. He stands and shrugs his jacket off, revealing a soaked black t-shirt that clings to his muscles in a way that makes my stomach flip and my cheeks redden. Hoping he didn't notice, I leave the room to get him a towel. When I return he is sitting shivering slightly on the piano stool, his long muscular fingers resting lightly on the keys. My entrance startles him and he involuntarily plays a piercing note. I stifle a giggle as he hastily removes his hand as though it was burnt and gives me a sheepish look. I sit next to him, handing him the towel which he drapes around himself with a nod of thanks. I look up at him and his grey eyes meet mine, an occurrence as beautifully startling as always. His slightly too long hair is no longer dripping and now curls into the olive toned skin of his cheeks, making the soft curve of his strong jaw more prominent. I feel his breath on my face and suddenly the situation seems too intimate so I turn back to the piano.

"Play something, would you?" he suggests awkwardly. I don't know what to say to him so I rest my hands on the keys and begin a tune that's been floating round my head for the past week. The melody speaks of fire, of rebellion. I never finished it so I make the rest up. I incorporate the feel of this strange, wild boy at my side, his arm burning against mine. I stop after a few minutes, suddenly embarrassed and he stares down at me.

"That was beautiful." He murmurs. "It sounded like anger and fire. Like rebellion." He gives me a pointed look. I stare back at him. How did he know? No one has ever heard my songs but I always assumed that they were like secrets, unknown to everyone but the owner, and only decipherable in small parts. I worry for a moment that he heard himself in my playing but I relax when his eyes become unfocused, losing my train of thought when his jaw twitches. He's staring at his hands and it surprises me to realise that I recognise this as him thinking deeply. I watch him warily until eventually his head snaps up.

"Is this what you do all day?"

"What do you mean?" I stammer, no one has asked me that before. For a touching moment I actually think he's asking out of curiosity, but the set of his jaw indicates otherwise.

"I meant what I said Madge...you heard." There we go.

"Well...I go to school, I do homework, I practice piano..." I'm unsure of what else to say because I don't know where he's going with this. I suspect however, that it's nowhere good and he proves me right by clenching his fists and turning to me, eyes blazing.

"You have the power to _do_ something Madge, you're the Mayor's daughter! He must have all sorts of information in his office, you must know so many people. How can you sit here like some perfect, untouchable idiot in your stupid castle doing _nothing_?" he's on his feet now, and yelling.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't somewhat blindsided, only moments ago we had been talking to each other like human beings - even managing to exist in the same room. I should have known better than to let myself think we were making progress but his harsh words still hit a raw nerve. I recoil at the disgust in his voice as though he struck me, this seems to please him because he carries on.

"All we can do is survive Princess, people like you don't need to worry about where you next meal is coming from. You and the other townies could do more, could change things around here. Instead you leave us to rot like it isn't your problem." He sneers, red with rage. Something inside me snaps and I'm on my feet, fists clenched.

"You don't know the first thing about me Gale Hawthorne. What the hell do you know about what me or my father do around here?" He snorts obnoxiously so despite approaching dangerous territory, I continue.

"You think you can't stand the Capitol now? _Try living there for a year_!" A harsh laugh escapes him,

"Poor little Princess, had to go to a special school for geniuses. Too much homework for you?" He mocks.

"Stop calling me that!" I resist the urge to slap the smirk off his stupid face...just.

"I was sent away because my father wouldn't stop campaigning for better conditions in the mines after the accident!" that shuts him up.

"You don't know what it was like, being there. It was hell, Gale. Do you know what they do to people there? Everything is artificial, nothing is _real_. Appearance is everything and no one speaks an honest word, day or night. Life is a game for those idiots, they know nothing about the way people suffer here and they don't care. Does that sound like fun to you Gale?"

"How were you able to leave?" He asks after a long moment, at normal volume. I fold my arms and glare at him. He may be insufferably rude, but he wouldn't rat me out.

"I have a contact in D2, from a long line of peacekeepers. He pulled some strings and got me sent home for being a troublemaker."

He laughs. "You? A troublemaker?" I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to finish. Eventually he lifts his hands in defeat, apparently an indication to carry on.

"He got his father - the Head Peacekeeper of Capitol Uni - to say I didn't deserve to be at there and to ship me back to where I came from with the rest of the common scum. He said I wouldn't comply with the dress code, which was true" I sniff. "I wouldn't let them dye my hair green."

He snorts with laughter. "How the hell do you know the Head Peacekeepers son?"

"I wrote to him," I shrug. "I heard from my friends in the Capitol that he was interested in rebellion."

"So you _were_ befriending Capitol scum?"  
>"Of course not, they were part of the resistance..." I clap my hand over my mouth but it's too late. The implication of what I said sinks in and his grey eyes light up.<p>

"What resistance?" I sigh.

"Forget it, Gale."

He snorts again."Sorry Princess, I can't just let that one go."

"I just wanted you to know that I'm not on their side." I lower my head, hoping this will placate him.

He places a finger underneath my chin and raises my blazing face to level with his.

"I won't let this go, Princess. I have to go now...but I'll be in touch."

With that, he strides out of the loft, grabbing his coat on the way. I sink into the soggy armchair with a groan, wondering what trouble my big mouth just got me into.

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please never underestimate how special your reviews are to someone writing, I truly appreciate them all.**_


	7. Action Needs An Audience

_**A/N: Thanks for the awesome reviews, you guys are officially the cat's pyjamas. Unfortunately I'm back to updating every week or so because I'm back at college, but I'm still really enjoying writing this so I'll try to keep 'em coming at a fairly swift pace. This is a bit of a filler but I thought it was time for some fun seeing as the last few chapters have been kinda heavy. Hope you enjoy, please continue to let me know what you think - it's so helpful!**_

Chapter 7: Action Needs An Audience

The early hours of the morning after the Reaping are spent tweaking the last part of Gale's song and transferring it to manuscript paper. It's unlike anything I've ever written before, and some silly part of me worries that if I don't write it down it will somehow escape the confines of my exhausted mind. Hours (and hundreds of scrunched up pieces of paper) later, a knock at the door cuts through my feverish scribbling. I flush thinking it might be Gale making good on his promise, then kick myself when I remember it's the weekend – hunting time. I walk a little slower to the door and don't quite catch it before my father does. Assuming its some client or a delivery I turn to wander back upstairs only to stop when I hear my name being called.

"Madge sweetheart, it's for you,"

Intrigued, I hop down the last few steps coming face to face with a Peacekeeper.

My eyes widen in terror. _How did they find out?_ It HAS to be about the slips. He and my father are beaming inexplicably and I'm about to bolt when Dad pipes up,

"This charming young man has just asked to escort you on a turn about Town. I gave him my approval of course." I roll my eyes, no wonder he's beaming. He's been trying to set me up with a Peacekeeper for years.

I survey the situation quickly as I've been taught, my head cocking to the side as I search the stranger for any sign of malicious intent. My gaze catches on the white uniform, sending my mind into blind panic until I force myself to meet his eyes. I admit grudgingly to myself that he's handsome. His hair is an unusual deep red and his face is boyish with just a hint of scruffy stubble. His blue eyes are lighter than mine and something that seems awfully like amusement dances in their depths.

Sighing, I decide I have no choice. I'll let myself be commandeered by this stranger but if he's arresting me I won't go quietly. I smirk at the thought and grab a sweater from the back of the chair, motioning with my hand to the balmy outdoors.

"Shall we?"

His eyes flash in amusement as he offers his arm.

"Certainly." I take it and we step outside.

"Enjoy your fading youth...be home by supper!" my father yells after us and I cringe, noting the easy way the strange man I've linked arms with laughs.

He says nothing as we wander through town, and instead seems to pay suspiciously apt attention to the minutiae of D12 life. I notice quickly however, that his arm is leading me out of town towards the meadows that contain the Seam/Town boundary. I shiver, working hard to keep my face an impassive mask. The border is known for being the place where dirty deals are made. Cray meets the most desperate women of D12 in this part of the District, and moonshiners sell white liquor and opiates in broad daylight because no one lingers there. It's also well covered - the perfect place for an attack. I hold my tongue and my ground until we reach a small copse of trees and he pulls me gently and silently into their suddenly sinister boughs.

With a loud cry intended to confuse him I aim a punch to his throat, but he's quick. He moves deftly to the side and with one fluid motion his temple avoids my other fist and he darts out of reach of my kicks, grabbing both of my flailing hands in one of his and forcing them behind my back. His hand covers my mouth as I try to scream but I bite it, hard. Over my screams and his yelps I hear him shouting,

"It's me Undersee, it's me!" I stop screaming and freeze.

There's only one person who has ever had the gall to call me by my second name.

I wrench my hands out of his firm but gentle grip and whirl round to face the man now doubled over with laughter, shaking the life back into his bleeding hand.

"Jeez Undersee! You've got some right hook. I know the 'escorting you around town' thing was a bit much but seriously..."

"D-Darius?" I venture, scowling as my confused questioning prompts more raucous laughter.

"No wonder you freaked out, I thought you knew who I was! Are you in the habit of wandering the streets with strange men?" his eyes sparkle with humour as he eyes me incredulously.

"You...you're not how I expected you to be. In your letters you seemed..." I stammer, my brain still recovering from fight mode.

"Ugly? A pansy? As opposed to the dashingly handsome man you see before you with the huge guns? Tut tut Undersee, you wound me..."

I cut him off by throwing my arms around the man that has been my only hope for the past year - the man whose father got me out of the Capitol in one piece and back in 12 where I belong.

"Well that's more the reaction I was hoping for," he mumbles into my hair gruffly.

I release him and give him a good thwack on the shoulder. He exaggerates a pained face and grabs at his arm.

"What the hell are you playing at? I thought you were some random Peacekeeper coming to arrest me...I could have murdered you!"

He snorts with laughter but swiftly turns it into an enthusiastic cough when he catches my unamused expression.

"I'm sorry, I really thought you'd put two and two together. I brought you here so we could talk more freely, I didn't mean to scare you. Shall we start over?" He holds out his hand. "Darius Buckley, at your service." He grins.

I take it, shaking my head.

"I can't believe it's really you. What are you _doing_ here?"

"I finished my Peacekeeper training early." He shrugs, and his eyes drop to the ground. "They sent me here six months ago for my two-year probationary period."

My jaw drops open.

"You've been here in 12 for _six months_ and you never once saw fit to mention that in one of your letters?" He scratches the back of his head looking exceedingly awkward.

"Don't look at me like that Undersee," he shifts uncomfortably. "I just didn't think you'd want to hear about what a jolly old time I was having here while you were still stuck in the Capitol." He's right, I would have hated it.

A sudden realisation hits me like a ton of bricks and I feel myself turn bright red.

"So...you saw?"

"Yes." He answers simply.

"I failed everyone," I sigh. "You brought me home to make a difference and I let you down. I let everyone down." I mutter bitterly.

He grips my shoulder somewhat tentatively and bends his knees until his eyes are level with mine.

"I didn't bring you home to get Reaped Undersee, that plan was bullshit. You're much more use in 12, that's why I didn't kick up a fuss when I was posted here. You and I, we're going to give this place a well-needed shake up." He grins, winking and I let out a reluctant laugh.

"You really are different from your letters, you know."

"Oh really?" he folds his arms, smirking.

"Yes! You're a lot more serious on paper, and you're way younger than I imagined." 

"Yeah well, your violent tendencies aren't exactly apparent in your delicate hand."

I huff. "I already told you I didn't-"

"Yeah yeah Undersee" he cuts me off, ruffling my hair annoyingly. "You thought I was a baddie." He throws an arm around me and I immediately shove it off which makes him laugh again.

"So, what are we going to do? Now that I know what little I learnt in the Capitol I can't just do nothing. It's bad here Darius, and it's getting worse."

He nods. "I know. I had no idea how many kids have to take out tesserae here, it's usually only one or two of the boys."

This makes me think of Gale, but I'm not quite ready to explain the circumstances around my dangerous slip up.

"That's not even the half of it." He nods his agreement.

"Thing is," he rubs his stubble covered jaw, "D12 just isn't a priority right now. District 8 has been teetering on the edge of rebellion for years, that's where the main focus is. After that they're mostly concerned with District 1 and 2 because of their links to the Capitol."

"Then why were they up for sending me on the inside?"

"For that exact reason. No one pays attention to 12, including the Capitol. The people are poorer here than in any other District but I can't believe how lax the security is. I met the girl who got Reaped, she's been hunting in the woods over the fence undetected for years!"

My heart contracts at the mention of my absent friend.

"You met Katniss?"

"Yeah, I tried it on with her. Was she a friend of yours?" I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my best friend."

"I'm so sorry Madge." He says, suddenly serious.

"It should have been me." I whisper, and he somehow knows to say nothing.

"Hang on...was it you who gave her the pin?" 

"You saw that?" I cry, elated.

"Yeah, my Dad was really excited about it, says he's been calling round the sympathetic sponsors" 

"Oh, that's exactly what I'd hoped for!"

"Nice work Undersee, but we can't control what goes on in the Games now. You know that right?" 

"I know." I lower my head.

"We have to get started here. Put D12 on the map so that our contacts in the Capitol take notice."

"You mean I can still help?"

"Of course Undersee you're smart, I need you. You're the brains and I'm the brawn, we'll make a good team." He claps me on the back as I raise my eyebrows at his distribution of roles.

"I have to get back to the base now, but I'll be in touch in the next couple of days. What's say we can't stir up some trouble for Big Brother?" he grins.

...

The sky turns various brilliant shades of pink as the sun sets during the long walk I take to avoid going home. I'm still getting used to the fact that I will be here for the foreseeable future instead of preparing for the opening ceremony alongside Peeta Mellark. It's the oddest sensation to accept your own death only to be given a new lease on life. Fitting myself back into life as the Mayor's daughter feels a little like trying to squeeze myself into last year's winter clothes...I just don't quite fit. The thought of working with Darius makes things a little easier but my guilt over Katniss is always in the back of my mind. I reach the imposing front gate of my house wondering idly what Gale Hawthorne would think of me being the reason for his hunting partner's potential demise, when a familiar dark figure emerges from the shadows created by the large oaks lining my street. I hurry to open the gate pretending not to see him but a low, lilting Seam accent cuts through the growing darkness.

"I know you see me, Princess." The smirk his voice both angers me and sends shivers down my spine.

"What do you want, _Hawthorne_?" I turn to glare at him folding my arms across my chest, partly against the cold and partly against his imposing presence. He stops a few feet away from me, mirroring my stance.

"I want in." 

"In on what? I have no idea what you're talking about..." I lie, fiddling with the edge of my skirt – a nervous habit I was sure I'd left with my eight year old self for safekeeping.

He snorts. "The hell you don't. You said you have contacts interested in changing things around here. I never thought I'd see the day, but you and I have a common interest." 

"We have nothing in common," I snap.

"Maybe not, but I can still help." 

"I don't think so," I turn to leave but with impossible speed he is inches away from me, one of his large hands resting gently but firmly on my shoulder stopping my progress towards the gate. I shiver slightly as his thumb burns a hole in my collarbone through my dress and his silver eyes bore into my downturned lashes.

I nettle because I hate that I'm so affected by his hulking proximity, plus this is the second time today I've been manhandled.

"What do you _want_ Gale? Nothing is even happening yet. We had a plan but it went wrong, _everything_ went wrong. Now we have to start over and there's so little time..." my voice breaks and my face turns red as my eyes moisten.

"Let me help Madge," he says softly. He drops his hand from my shoulder and walks a few paces away, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair.

"I'm so sick of it. Everything's changing and there's nothing I can do to stop it! Katniss is gone, Rory's talking about taking out tesserae and soon I have to leave school to seal my fate inside those damn mines. I can't do nothing anymore, I can't." His eyes are wild and his unruly dark hair adds to the effect.

"I have a family, Princess. Little brothers and a baby sister. If there's anything I can do to make this crappy world better for them, you have to let me help. _Please_." His eyes soften and the arms he's been flailing to make his point drop to his sides with a dull thud.

I startle at this tiny, unexpected glimpse into the stoic hunter's life, and at the love and desperation that permeates his short speech. Perhaps it's that love, or the passion in his eyes that makes me consider his case.

He's smart, I remember from school. He's honest and loyal, according to Katniss. I suppose we could use all the help we can get and besides, he's right. Who am I to stop him fighting against the establishment we all hate? So few have the guts to do anything about it anymore.

"Fine." I whisper eventually. "Meet me here tomorrow after school, we'll talk then. My Dad's waiting for me."

His grey eyes flash like steel, and his breathless expression is more beautiful than I can say.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Princess." He flashes me a rare grin and turns swiftly on his heel, disappearing into the darkness as suddenly as he appeared.

I watch his retreating back, wondering for the second time this week what the heck I've just gotten myself into. For once I smile at the offensively apt nickname that cruelly parodies the day we met, as I climb the steps to my castle, my prison, my home.

_**A/N: Hope you liked it! Next chapter to follow soon.**_


	8. Invented

_**A/N: Sorry about the lack of Gale's perspective last chapter, this one will be more balanced. Hope you enjoy! **_

Chapter 8: Invented

_Gale's P.O.V_

I'm woken when it's still dark by a slight pressure on my chest. I grumble, reluctantly opening one eye then another when the first is met by a pair of large chocolate brown ones framed by tawny fur. A tiny nose twitches underneath the eyes and whiskers tickle my cheek.

"Hey there Bandit," I address my sister's rabbit evenly. "What have I told you about these late night visits, eh? Posy might start to get jealous..."

A tiny giggle bursts through the silence and the little animal's eyes bug out as it's scooped off my chest and replaced by a significantly heavier 4 year old.

"Gale...Bandit can't sleep. He h-had a bad dream," she whispers, hugging the poor thing so hard that it starts to make a weird wheezing sound. I reach out and grab her tiny hand, partly to comfort her and partly to save Bandit from death by asphyxiation.

"Oh yeah?"

She nods earnestly, jamming her thumb in her mouth.

"What was it about?"

She leans her head down to press her ear to the rabbit's face.

"He says it was about a big red Dragon that burnt the house down with its horrid fiery breath!" her eyes fill with tears and she leans forward to wrap her arms around me and burrow into my shoulder. I pat her back soothingly, trying to kick my sleep addled brain into finding the best words to comfort my favourite little redhead.

"You know," I say finally, smiling. "I once knew a Princess that slew Dragons."

"Really? You mean...a girl?" she wriggles away from me and fixes her earnest gaze on my face.

"Er...yeah, but not just any girl. This girl was a Princess, the daughter of a King"

"Wooooooow!"

"I know, can you believe it?"

"Was she pretty?" I grimace, knowing the answer my sister wants to hear but finding myself somehow uncomfortable at the prospect of describing my reluctant new ally.

"Oh yes" I'm too tired to lie. "Beautiful. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes that burned like fire...but best of all she was brave Pose, braver than any knight or soldier."

"Braver than you?"

"Of course not!" I feign outrage and she giggles loudly as I tickle her into submission. I clamp a hand over her mouth and continue the story in a whisper.

"Anyway, this Princess would wander far and wide across District 12 slaying all the Dragons and rescuing the animals and people of the forest from certain death. A few years ago she retired because she finally got all of them. Her last battle was with a big red one like Bandit said, that must have been who he saw."

"So, there's none left?" she yawns, covering her little mouth with one hand and rubbing her fist into the other.

"Not even one." I brush her hair back from her forehead, wondering idly whether the Princess really did slay the Dragons she was running from.

While multiple impossibly large yawns wrack her tired frame, I take the opportunity to carry her and Bandit back to their own bed where she scrambles under the covers I tuck carefully around her.

My baby sister's tiny fingers eventually loosen their vice-like grip on my shirt sleeve as she drifts off to sleep. I stare down at her, a crushing mix of protective love and terror swirling round my tired mind. It's moments like these when I feel every ounce of the weight of responsibility my father accidentally left on my young shoulders. Sighing, I turn out the light just as she mumbles one last question.

"What was her name?"

"Who Pose?"

"The Princess Gale, duh." I chuckle, wracking my brain but settling for the easiest option.

"Madge."

...

As I shuffle back to my room I stick my head into Vick and Rory's to check that Vick isn't reading a book by torch-light under the covers again. I smile at the sight of my open-mouthed brothers snoring loudly in perfect unison. Finally I lean into the lumpy mattress of my own bed, but sleep refuses to take me. My mind just can't seem to shut down.

It's the first viewing of the Games tomorrow, so this is the last night I can coax myself to sleep with the hope that it's all been a particularly nasty dream. Everything since my best friend's departure for the Capitol has seemed unreal. I shift uneasily at the thought of Catnip's familiar face on a television screen, warped by paint and artificial light. I'm not sure I'm ready to face the reality of her fate...and why should I be?

A burning hatred sears my prone muscles. The unbearable heat is only quelled by thoughts of fighting back. Of finally doing something, _anything_ to change the insurmountable odds stacked against my family's survival. There's nothing I can do for Katniss, not really... and that hurts more than anything. It's too late for her but I can do something for my family and my district. For my father.

I gave up hours ago on wondering what the Mayor's kid has in store for me tomorrow afternoon. I scowl at the thought of her annoying secrets and surprises. Life is simple here in 12, but nothing is simple about the strange connection between myself and Madge Undersee.

...

I must have eventually drifted off to sleep because I'm woken by my frazzled Mother with only twenty minutes to scarf down breakfast, wash and get changed for school.

"Sorry Gale, Vick let Bandit out of his cage and Pose wouldn't let me make breakfast 'til we found him."

"No worries, Ma" I mollify whilst groaning inwardly. With intuition only a mother possesses she senses this and yanks the covers from my bed leaving me mercilessly exposed to the harsh light streaming through my large window.

"Thanks Ma" I mutter as she smiles serenely and sweeps out of the room,

"You're welcome honey".

We dance our familiar morning routine with ease, even with the shortened time frame. I make our breakfast of watery oatmeal while Mum wrangles Posy into her school clothes. I check Rory's shoes for holes and comb Vick's unruly hair as best I can, the poor lad inherited it from Dad and me so it's the least I can do. Eventually I drag my gaggle of siblings out the door as Mom smiles and waves from the front porch, chuckling quietly.

School is as slow as ever, so I spend most of the day reading George Orwell's "1984" for what seems like the hundredth time under my worn desk. The copy was my Father's, and the tiny scrawled notes in the margins are his most brilliant – and most dangerous – ideas. The book was banned after the Dark Days for its daring. I'm not much of a reader, but the fragile yellowing pages of my Dad's favourite book and the words of a long-dead man quiet the inferno inside my chest with whispers of _"later"_ and _"soon"_.

The day passes slowly but before I know it I'm scanning the bobbing heads of Rory's class, searching for my lanky brother. I eventually catch him bounding after an oblivious Prim and grab his shoulder. It's not my fault he slips on a loose cobble and lands on his backside.

"Gale! What the hell?" he turns an interesting shade of red as a gaggle of blonde town girls turn and collapse into piercing giggles at his misfortune. I give him a swift slap upside the head and lift him up by the collar.

"Who taught you to curse like that, you little punk?"

"You did!" he growls incredulously, dusting himself off. I shrug, he's right.

"Listen, I need you to pick up Posy and Vick and walk them home."

"But Gale..." he stares longingly after the retreating back of Katniss' little sister.

I snort. "I'm doing you a favour Ror, if you think Catnip is gonna let you near Prim when she realises you have a crush on her you've got another thing coming."

He pales slightly and huffs,

"I do not!"

"Whatever you say little bro,"

My teasing has the desired effect and he stomps off in the direction of the Kindergarten exit.

I scan the crowds that make up Katniss' year group, avoiding the accusing eyes of more than one of my slag-heap forays. Awkward.

Eventually I locate a pink ribbon unsuccessfully attempting to hold together a swishing ponytail of blonde curls attached to a ridiculously short girl.

I keep my distance. I would never hear the end of it if Thom, Darius or Ryan saw me walking with some Townie girl, especially the Mayor's daughter. I am eager for our meeting though, so I quicken my pace slightly in order to keep her in my line of view.

I snort with laughter as she trips slightly on her untied shoelace and scans the crowd whilst bending down to retie it to see if anyone saw. Nice one, Princess. Very smooth.

The smirk drops from my face as she straightens up and the sun catches her hair making it glint like liquid gold. She bites her lip and blinks slowly, her blue eyes scanning her classmates by the gate. Could she be looking for me? I shake my head and continue towards her as she wanders in the direction of town, seemingly finding what she was looking for.

My eye is caught by a familiar face. He sticks out like a sore thumb because you can tell he's almost as tall as I am, even leaning against the left gatepost. Darius.

I grin, raising my hand to greet him. However, when he stands and focuses his attention it is on none other than Madge Undersee, whose ponytail has come to a halt in front of my suddenly smiling friend.

What the hell? How can they know each other? She's only been back two days...surely it takes longer than that to successfully chat up the _Mayor's daughter_?

Something about the way he throws his arm around her shoulders makes me scowl, then smirk as she shoves it off. Nice to see I'm not the only victim of her newfound attitude. My chest still tightens inexplicably when she takes his arm, dragging him smirking into the shady trees lining the path to town.

_She doesn't even know him_, I reason with myself as I storm down the path towards their snug little hiding place. He might be hassling her, like Katniss. He's harmless obviously, but he might make her late and I don't have the time to waste on their teenage dream. I reach them in just a few of my long strides and (to my relief) find them standing a perfectly proper amount of feet away from each other talking easily. Darius spots me first and greets me with a confused raise of his hand, looking more than a little put out by my intrusion. Madge is still nattering away, oblivious.

I happily interrupt her with a cheeky "Well howdy there, Princess".

...

_Madge's P.O.V_

I woke up from a restless sleep this morning to a note outside my door from Darius telling me he'd meet me by the school gates. I'm completely flustered by the end of the day because the more I dwell on it the more I realise that his plan is idiotic. A Peacekeeper in training hovering by the school gates waiting for the Mayor's daughter is sure to draw attention. I'm completely invisible at this school and I'd like to keep it that way. The sun beats down on District 12, scorching the pale skin on the back of my neck and I begin to feel sticky and uncomfortable.

I stumble clumsily as I carefully avoid knocking my classmates , tripped by my untied shoelaces. Nice one, Madge. Very smooth. I turn my head subtly to the left and right, I hope no one saw that...

I straighten up and search the crowds, cringing when I see a shock of red hair above a grinning face visible over even the oldest boys' heads. I stare a little because it's still strange, having a face to put to the scrawling script I depended on for eight months of my life.

I relax slightly when I clock that he's not in his uniform, just jeans and a button down shirt. All the same I shoot him a glare when he yells,

"Alright Undersee?"

I grab his navy sleeve none too gently and drag him into some nearby trees. I swallow and loosen my grip as I remember that I have to tell him about Gale today.

That reminds me that I'll probably be late to meet him. I mutter a curse as I check the copse for any signs of life before rounding on Darius, arching a brow and tapping my foot. For all I know my Dad might decide to wander outside and ask what some lanky scowling boy is doing on his front lawn. Darius interrupts my silent panic by being annoying as usual.

"Er Undersee, this is a bit forward. I know I'm irresistible but I'm trying to keep a low profile here..."

I ignore him pointedly and jab a finger into his chest making him retreat a few feet.

"What are you playing at Darius, _the school gates_? People are going to get suspicious if they see a schoolgirl meeting a Peacekeeper. Plus I had plans, you can't just summon me whenever you feel like it." I huff, crossing my arms and hoping Gale won't be too angry.

He grins impishly. "Well, clearly I can. You're here aren't you?"

"Not for long if you don't cut to the damn chase!"

"Ok, ok!" he raises his hands in defeat, still snickering. "I've been thinking how best to proceed but I keep hitting a brick wall when it comes to organisation. We need somewhere to air our ideas and make plans. Somewhere we can talk properly in private and get to work. In short, I think we need a base."

"You're right, we can't keep meeting out in the open like this."

"Any ideas where we could set up camp?"

I pause for a few moments then start rattling off all the potential places I can think of, following most of them with 'but it's probably bugged'. I'm still going when I'm suddenly distracted by Darius' raised hand and strange expression. Not to mention a drawling voice from somewhere behind me that makes my blood boil.

"Well howdy there, Princess."

"Shut up, Gale" I snap automatically, then do a double take. "Gale?"

My mind whirls, trying desperately to think up a separate excuse for each of them. Before I can launch into any rubbish lies, Darius sticks out his hand towards Gale who shakes it warmly, clapping him on the back.

"How's it going Hawthorne? I'm so sorry about Kat, she was a great girl." Gale just nods, scowling, but I interject.

"Is, Darius. IS a great girl." I say quietly but firmly. This earns me the full force of Gale's molten silver stare, and all I can do is pray I don't turn red as he continues to glare at me like I imagine he glares at the animals he hunts while he decides whether to let them live or die. When I finally find the courage to meet his eyes, his expression softens to what seems to be an odd mix of curiosity and indifference. I suppress a shiver, wondering why he always has to be so damn intense. Darius starts to shift his eyes back and forth between us suspiciously, so I stammer the first thing that comes to mind.

"S-so you g-guys...know each other?"

"We met at the Hob." Darius grins and Gale groans. "Got talking during one of my more lucrative poker games."

"I lost my winter gloves that day, you bastard. Plus, a white uniform in the Black Market is pretty easy to spot." Gale chuckles and the sound is mesmerising.

I gape for a little longer before Darius chimes in, grabbing my hand.

"Anyway, I was just catching up with my girl here Hawthorne. If you catch my drift..." he waggles his eyebrows and Gale turns a funny colour.

"Save it, Darius" I say, yanking my hand from his. "He knows."

Darius turns to me and with raised eyebrows and I shrug, it was an accident.

"Hang on...it's you?" Gale suddenly interjects. "_You _are the District 2 contact that got her out of the Capitol?"

I frown at Gale's incredulous tone but Darius doesn't seem offended. Quite the opposite actually.

"You been spreading my heroic tale round town Undersee? I'm touched!"

I roll my eyes and explain yesterday's events, conveniently leaving out the part where Gale and I end up alone in my loft. When I finish there is an awkward silence until a gruff voice breaks it.

"I want in." Gale repeats his simple but loaded demand from last night.

"I don't know man, it's dangerous. The fewer people involved here, the better." He shoots me a disapproving look and I fight the urge to poke my tongue out at him.

"I'm already involved" mutters Gale, feigning nonchalance. Only his blazing eyes and curled fists betray his calm demeanour. Darius pinches the bridge of his nose and I stay silent.

"I'm not asking for your permission, Darius." He folds his arms and draws himself up to full height, the muscles in his shoulders bunching, adding to his formidable stance.

"I'm doing something about this with or without you. Katniss was the last straw." He says her name so softly that a lump appears in my throat. The tick in his jaw is now giving him away.

"Darius," I finally intervene. "We need all the help we can get. If you know Gale, you know he'd be the best person in the District to have in our corner. Plus if we run separate operations we have to factor in the risk of tripping over each other and blowing our cover," I finish on a practical note, hoping to appeal to his military nature. Darius leans against a tree, deep in thought for a long moment.

"You're right, Undersee. As usual." Darius eventually acquiesces.

Gale grins at this and they shake hands again. I roll my eyes, stupid male rituals. Now I have two idiot men to deal with instead of one, fantastic.

"We're trying to think of somewhere to set up a base, Gale. Any ideas?" I say eventually, eager to get back to business. He assumes his familiar thinking position and my mind inadvertently drifts to our fierce argument last night. Wait...last night!

"There is...one place." I stammer, already embarrassed. Two sets of eyes bore into me, eager to hear and I almost lose my nerve in volunteering my personal sanctuary.

"My loft." Darius immediately launches into dismissing it as a terrible idea to be planning the resistance right under the Capitol official's noses but Gale intervenes, all but reading my mind.

"You're right, Princess. Your house is the last place they would look. Are you sure it's not bugged?"

"My family would be dead by now if it were" I say calmly and this silences them both.

"Ok" Darius nods after a while, understanding where we're coming from. "Lead the way, Undersee."

...

_Gale's P.O.V_

An hour later, Madge and I stand awkwardly on either side of her loft as Darius paces excitedly, already making plans to transport a larger desk and a printer to our new base. I feel as odd in this strange little room as I did yesterday, as though I'm prying. The room is just so...Madge. There are traces of her everywhere; an open book on the coffee table, a crumpled blanket half draped over the battered armchair, the piano stool askew. Something about the way she wraps her arms around her waist makes me think she feels this unwitting invasion acutely. So why did she invite us here?

I study her face as her blue eyes flit around the room anxiously searching for something that will reveal too much of herself. I accidentally smile at the blush that colours her delicate face as she tidies a messy pile of sheet music strewn across one corner of the floor.

I'm startled from my observation by another triumphant yelp from my excitable ginger friend.

"Undersee, this is PERFECT! The window opens out near an oak, I'm pretty sure it could take my weight. We'll never have to enter through your house!"

"Ssshh Darius" she whispers. "My Dad doesn't leave for the Capitol until tomorrow, we have to be quiet."

Conveniently, her father has been invited to spend a week in the Capitol for the duration of the opening ceremonies and training. He'll be back by Sunday to open his home to media teams and the District mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. Turns out that Haymitch needs to be as near to the Mayor's Capitol communications once Katniss and the baker's son enter the arena.

The searing realisation of how soon my friend could be dead sends an icicle through my chest, and I can barely breathe.

I thought I hid it well but sure enough when I lift my gaze from my worn boots, two piercing azure eyes meet mine, pity swirling in their depths. I hate pity, so I glare at her. She flinches noticeably.

Darius eventually drops his eager survey of the room and gets ready to leave.

"I have to get back to base, my shift starts soon. I'm enforcing the mandatory home viewing." He mutters, glaring at his boots, the excitement draining completely from his voice.

Madge is standing next to him and absentmindedly rests a hand on his forearm, patting it soothingly as she squints into thin air, losing herself in thoughts of injustice judging by her expression.

My hands curl into fists as I notice him,. stare at her hand on his arm, then -slightly open mouthed- at her oblivious, perfect face. I laugh silently and humourlessly. This strange girl truly has no idea of the effect she has on people. Typical.

I begin a loud coughing fit that has the desired effect of startling him from his careful survey of Madge Undersee's left cheek and making him stand and excuse himself. She waves distractedly as he scrambles out of the window, but never raises her pained gaze from the ground. I know I should leave with him, but something gives me the audacity to stay and see if she'll ask me to leave.

I throw myself into the armchair I spent time in last night and pick up the discarded book. My mouth drops open as I realise that it's a hardback copy of "1984" with blue binding and a silver trim.

I shoot her a look to make sure she didn't notice my admiration of one of her possessions but she's still staring at the floor. To give her a bit of time to come back to me I stand and move towards the bookcase, eager to see what treasure lies within the dark wooden shelves.

As I move (slowly, so as not to disturb Madge's deep thought) I flick through the slightly yellow pages, marvelling at the pristine pages. It's beautiful, but the lack of my Father's rebellious margin graffiti quells any envy I feel for her book.

I feel something warm caress my exposed upper arm and I turn slightly, surprised to see that it's Madge's breath, catching me as she leans over my arm to see what I'm holding so reverently.

Her face softens into a smile as she notices the title.

"Ah, my favourite." She grins. "I'm re-reading it. It's banned in the Capitol along with most good books, so I had to make do with bodice rippers for eight moths once I finished what I brought." She laughs, blushing.

I just stare at her. Surely she doesn't expect me to hold intelligent conversation with a University student about books. I read, but I'm no literary.

"Have you read it?"

"Yes," I snap, annoyed at the thought of her assuming I hadn't. She doesn't seem put out, she just smiles while running a slender finger lovingly along the spine.

"I thought you would have." She smirks.

"What about this?" she grab a slender red paperback and hands it to me.

"Nope," is all I can manage as I examine the unfamiliar cover, 'Catcher In The Rye'.

She giggles suddenly and I turn to scowl at her.

"Sorry my reading list doesn't live up to your expectations Princess, but not all of us have a library at our disposal." I sneer.

Amazingly, she just keeps giggling.

"I'm sorry Gale, it's not that. I just realised that you're like a way less whiney version of the main character. Literally, it's uncanny!"

I frown because I can't tell if that's an insult or not. As if she reads my mind she smiles and says,

"He's not everyone's favourite character but I always had a soft spot for him. He's brave and honest to a fault. He fights against what he knows is wrong, in his own way. I guess that's as far as any comparison could be drawn." She smiles at some private joke, but there's nothing malicious or sneering in the act.

"You can borrow it if you like." She says, then her sharp eyes dart to meet mine as we both remember the last time we tried to share. She blushes and stammers something about it being there if I want it, then busies herself with folding the crumpled blanket she retrieves from the armchair.

I'm not entirely sure what to say so I just stand there awkwardly until her head snaps up, sending her golden curly (now completely free of her ribbon) flying.

"The opening ceremony."

My mouth runs dry. This is the moment I've been dreading since they first took her.

"I should get home..." I begin, but she interrupts softly.

"Or you could stay and watch here?"

The way she bites her lip and grips her right elbow awkwardly with her left arm makes me unable to refuse her anything in that moment. As she leads me down the small staircase, I attempt to shake some sense into my clearly failing brain.

...

I drum my fingers nervously on the arm of the plush couch in the Undersee's 'sitting room'. Before long, the huge plasma television plays the tinny Capitol announcement jingle and the beginning of the opening ceremony is announced in the jarring Capitol accent of Caesar Flickerman just as Madge re-enters the room holding two steaming mugs of fruit tea.

We sit in silence watching the terrible parade of doomed children, to the soundtrack of screeching Capitol citizens applauding and shouting.

When a girl and boy in black appear, I hear Madge suck in a sharp breath. I turn to her, and her tiny hand has flown to her mouth. I turn back to the screen, puzzled momentarily.

The moment I recognise my best friend and hunting partner underneath her disguise, she bursts into flames. I stare in silence, waiting with a small smile for the fire to reach her eyes. For some sign of defiance, for her trademark scowl. The smile slips from my face as I realise that perhaps I never knew her at all. Realistically, I know that smiling and pandering to those freaks are part of a complex game in which her life hangs in the balance. I just never imagined Katniss of all people would lose herself in exchange for anything...not even survival.

More dark thoughts cloud my mind as the absurdity of my current situation settles in. Soon the screen turns blank and I am suddenly eager to return to my raucous siblings and remember what's real.

"I had to see her, just once." Madge's quiet voice sounds to my right.

"What are you talking about Princess, this is only the beginning."

"Not for me it isn't."

I can only stare as the fire I'm growing desperate to feel rages in her eyes once more. "I've decided, Gale. I'm not watching. I'll think about her every minute of every day and send her warm thoughts and hopeful prayers. I'll dream that I'm right there with her but I _won't _watch her suffer. I won't watch any of them suffer."

I'm struck dumb and all I can think to do is stand and hand her the delicate empty china cup, mumbling my thanks. I'm halfway out the door when I hear her voice again.

"See you tomorrow, Gale."

"Sure, Princess." I smirk half-heartedly.

_**A/N: Thank you for reading! A particularly huge thank you to those subscribing, favouriting and reviewing. It means so much to me that you take the time to let me know what you think, it is so so encouraging. Next chapter might take couple of weeks because we have ridiculously long exam periods in the UK, but believe me I will get back to writing for fun as soon as possible.**_


	9. Mixtape

_**A/N: So very sorry if anyone was waiting for this update, exam season was long and INTENSE. I've been so looking forward to getting back to this, hope you enjoy! **_

.

Chapter 9: Mixtape

_._

_Gale's P.O.V_

My long legs dangle from the large oak that serves as a lookout point in the dense area of the forest best for hunting. I place my game carefully in the nook I carved over five years into the ancient wood, allowing myself a moment of unabashed elation.

Grinning like this feels foreign and my wooden cheeks ache. There has been nothing to smile about since she left, since _they_ took her.

Mom delivered the news of Katniss' astounding training score as soon as we got home from school, with damp yet spirited eyes that matched my own. Earlier this evening our family visited an equally hopeful Prim and a mercifully respondent Mrs Everdeen, and I was able to deliver their share of yesterday's game.

I guess it's a small victory in the scheme of all we stand to lose, but we come from the Seam. We learn early on here to take what joy we can grab, whenever and however it finds us. I guess that's why my people marry young, why we make time to laugh.

It's why we meet in the meadows and dance into the small hours to the blaring, heart pounding music of our ancestors after a full shift in the mines. Why we dare to live and raise families in such extreme conditions.

I stretch out along the sturdy branch so tied to my past and present, feeling a familiar surge of pride for where I come from and for who Ma and I are raising the kids to be.

However, as soon as the kids enter my mind, doubt follows. I do my best for them...but it's never enough. I never quite catch enough to keep them permanently from hunger cramps. I never quite trade enough for new shoes for Rory or even a damn ribbon for my baby sister's birthday. That particular failure was a few months ago but it still stings, realising I will never make them feel safe the way Dad did.

I wish more than ever these days that he was still around. If he were here, hewould be the one to teach Posy to read and Vick to play sports. He would be the one to lecture Rory on girls and skipping school. _He would tell me what to do._

If he were here I could have volunteered for Peeta Mellark and kept her safe instead of having to sit here like a useless coward while the Capitol grows stronger, doing nothing. My head sinks into my hands just as red spots of ill-suppressed rage enter my vision, all remnants of my short-lived smile erased.

Suddenly antsy, I jump from the branch landing easily in a crouched position. I can't sit still any longer, not now that there's something I can do for her.

Galvanised by the encroaching darkness I hurry to reset my snares, gathering what little I can provide for my grateful family. I wager I don't have time to shower in case Princess Madge likes to get an early night, so when we get home I just kiss Ma and Posy and ruffle the unruly heads of my brothers. Before leaving I do a quick walk-round survey of our tiny hut, checking it's completely secure before leaving Ma and the kids alone at this time of night.

Before long, my hunter's tread carries me silently through the shadows cast by the large town buildings to the Undersee's elegant back porch. I note with relief that the loft light is still on- the only one, seemingly. As I grab hold of the trunk and grumble wordlessly whilst yanking myself upwards to my own topsy-turvy version of Alice's Wonderland, I'm surprised to hear some decidedly un-Madge-like music pounding from the open window.

I stop, trying to place the vaguely familiar guitar riff, swearing as I slide down the branch as a consequence of the distraction. It's old, I know that much, but nothing I've ever been able to get my hands on. Most music in the Seam is live folk music, good for dancing. The quick pulsing nature of the drums and bass plus the drawling voice accompanying this number would be no good for dancing...or so I thought...

I reach the window and stare dumbfounded at the scene that meets my tired eyes.

_Madge Undersee is dancing. _

...

She doesn't move smoothly or delicately like a good little Mayor's daughter ought to. She's free and clumsy, all limbs and jumping around. Her hands clutch thick paintbrushes and a huge canvas smeared with bright, clashing colours faces my perch outside the window. She shimmies over to a small table holding an array of paints, oil I suppose, and moves back to the canvas using her brushes as drumsticks for an invisible drum kit.

I fight back a laugh with immense difficulty, the slight twinge of guilt over not announcing my presence overshadowed by vindictive pleasure. She would die if she knew anyone could see her, that much I can tell.

She's throwing colour with perfect carelessness at the overloaded canvas while bouncing around, swinging her hips and singing, with a sweet, clear voice that contrasts nicely with the male one drifting from a strange machine in the corner with a spinning black disk.

"_There she stood in the street, smiling from her head to her feet. I said, A-hey, what is this? Now baby maybe, maybe she's in need of a kiss" _

I grin, shaking my head as she punctuates each line with a loud splat of paint. The smirk is wiped off my face as she dips her tiny hands into two large pots of paint, splashing some on her nose. I watch in amazement as - giggling to herself - she smears her hands across her work. I stare, open mouthed at the casual mess she's making of our headquarters. Crazy girl. I'm transfixed as her delicate fingers create careless beauty amongst complete chaos that captures my amazement almost as much as her own.

"Beautiful." I murmur.

Colour rushes to my face before I realise my involuntary whisper was lost in the thumping chorus.

"_All right now baby, it's all right now"_

All too soon I remember myself and scowl at her back, because the image before me jars hopelessly with my favoured perception of Madge Undersee. The uptight bookworm, nothing but a prissy , piano-playing princess. It doesn't help that she isn't even wearing her trademark dress, but ripped jeans and a loose checked shirt. The sight of her carefree and laughing makes my stomach flip in a way I'm not sure I want to understand. Must just be hungry.

I grind my teeth wondering why she has to be so damn surprising. How the hell am I supposed to stay focused on helping Catnip when this _townie _insists on dangling her many mysteries in front of my face, begging to be unravelled?

Perching myself on the windowsill, I savour the last few frames of the vision that is Madge Undersee's terrible, terrible dancing. Smirking, I tap the window frame and let out a low wolf whistle, loud enough to make her freeze comically mid-wiggle.

The paintbrush drops from her purple and green hands and she spins round, her face immediately as crimson as the tip of her brush. The exquisite mixture of surprise, horror and embarrassment affords me the most amusement I've experienced in months, and my trademark control slips.

My uncontrollable booming laughter stops only when I slip of the sill and hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Everything slips into black as I smirk and marvel at the expression I wish I had a camera to capture.

...

"Gale?..._Gale_?"

I feel light pressure on my chest and something sweet-smelling warming my face. When I eventually coerce my heavy lids to open, the pressure increases, sending a searing pain down my back. The pain stills momentarily when the unmistakable blue of Madge Undersee's eyes float directly in front of mine, full of panic and something else I can't quite place.

In the moment my brain registers that the sweet heady scent overwhelming my senses is her breath, the pain returns.

"G-gr-grf..." is all I can manage at first, then something cool touches my forehead, sharpening my senses.

"Oh Gale, thank God. How are you feeling?"

"G-gerrof" reluctantly I try again, and immediately the pressure is relieved as she bolts upright, muttering apologies and turning an attractive shade of red.

"Can you sit up?" she murmurs.

I answer by doing just that, wincing only slightly at a small shooting pain in my side.  
>"Yeah" I stand slowly and she scrambles to her feet, helping my gently. "I'm fine Princess, probably just a bruised rib. An eighteen foot drop is a small price to pay for such a tantalising performance," I grin at her cheekily.<p>

The effect of her calm, cool exterior is somewhat ruined by the ever-present blush staining her porcelain cheeks.

"Serves you right anyway, you perv." Her eyes lose the panic and her left eyebrow arches with an expression that screams cool annoyance, but the blush still colours her cheeks.

"Oi! I was simply paying a visit to an accomplice to discuss certain _plans_ she promised to relay from our mutual friend over two days ago." I shoot back, mildly embarrassed that she caught me looking. Then I remember exactly what I was innocently observing and let out another laugh, immediately regretting it when another short burst of pain blooms in my chest.

"Hey Gale?" she coos, her eyes are round and innocent looking (I'm immediately suspicious).

"Yes Princess?" I'm smirking unashamedly.

"Is it just your rib that hurts?"

"I told you, everything's in fine working order," I snicker.

"Good." she says quietly.

Then quick as lightening, she reaches forward giving me a surprisingly sharp punch in the arm followed by a clip around my head not dissimilar to those I favour Rory with on his most annoying days.

"What the hell was that for!"

I suddenly notice the cool blue glint in her eyes I must have missed before as she hisses,

"For being a git."

"A git?"

"A git." She confirms.

"Well, well, well, who knew princesses listened to rock music, hey?" I grin. She may be the symbol of everything wrong with this District and annoying as hell to boot, but she sure is fun to wind up.

"Seeing as you've recovered well enough to give me cheek you can help me," she glares stonily at my exposed teeth then stomps off to gracefully climb the tree back into the loft, muttering something that sounds like "just like everyone else". I move to follow her but she yells down at me to stay put.

"Alright bossy," I murmur, amused.

"I heard that!"

...

_Madge's P.O.V_

Once safely inside my paint splattered loft, I take a moment to sink to the ground and cover my eyes in a desperate attempt to erase the image of Gale Hawthorne catching me, Madge Undersee, lolloping around my room to one of the ancient vinyl records I swiped from my Dad's vaults in the Justice Building.

How utterly undignified. Just as I was getting him to stop glaring and respect me a little too.

I can't help but groan as the image of him cackling on the windowsill creeps into my treacherous mind, warming my face yet again. I press my hands to my cheeks in an attempt to calm the red stain I can feel rather than see.

Gale starts whistling "All Right Now" from outside and after fighting the urge to call him up here to ensure he 'accidentally' repeats his little accident, I'm reminded of the task in hand. Grabbing my still slightly wet canvas I carry it to the window and angle it so that it fits through the frame.  
>"Gale?" no answer. "I know you're still there," I'm rewarded with a soft chuckle.<p>

"How can I be of service o' graceful one?"

"First of all, you can shut up. Second of all, you can grab this when I drop it and set it against the back wall. There's more to come." Without waiting for an answer I let go of the painting, hearing a small "Oomph" that indicates he caught it. I drop another three large ones down to him, five smaller paintings and a full sketchpad.

I follow them down, landing carefully in front of my infuriating 'accomplice' who stands with his arms folded, appraising my work. His heavy brow is furrowed and he's rubbing the stubble on his jaw with a large hand. My head cocks to the side just as a dark lock falls in his face, casting a shadow over his already dark features reflected only by the weak half moon.

The stubble's new, he must not have shaved for a few days. I redden when I realise the intimacy of this observation. Since when have I paid any attention to Hawthorne's facial hair?

As I attempt to distract myself from his quiet scrutiny, I can't help but remember how I've been longing to draw him. Exactly the way he is right now. Then I realise I'd have to get him to sit still first, and smirk. Like that would ever happen.

Having said that, I did get him to laugh (albeit at my expense) so apparently anything's possible.

I dash into the house to grab some other essentials – including my black market oil paints - returning to find him staring intently at three of the smaller paintings he's lined up against the wall. It's tempting to ask him how the hell he knew they formed a triptych, never mind how he knew the order they were intended to go in. However, I've been on the receiving end of Gale's temper often enough to know that that would offend him so I hold my tongue.

It's beginning to make me feel awkward, him looking at my scribbles like that. He's observing it with his patented steel-eyed intensity and it makes me feel naked. In so many ways, these paintings are my soul on paper, to have someone as judgemental as Gale unfurl their deeper meaning with his Seam slate eyes is harder than I imagined.

He startles me by snapping his head up smoothly to pierce my gaze with his. For the first time I can remember, the blazing colour in his eyes isn't hatred, it's searching. He's squinting at me as though I'm a particularly difficult crossword in The Daily Capitol, his brows furrowed and jaw twitching. I take a deep steadying breath under his scrutiny and almost giggle because his odd expression would be amusing if he wasn't so unbearably handsome.

"What do these mean?" he eventually asks.

I consider lying. I could say they were a simple passtime, a Mayor's daughter's indulgence to fill the monotony of a day in the lap of luxury. I'm sure that's what he thinks anyway, but something in the way he's staring at me makes me want him to know the truth. To understand some small part of me.

"They mean that I'm angry." I manage eventually, shivering slightly. I can't help but thrill at how easy the whispered honesty escaped me. _Is this what having a real friend is like?_

"What do you have to be angry about?"

I bristle at the wording, but his tone seems sincere so I continue.

"Everything..." my mind swims with all feeling behind my useless, endless painting. I'm angry about so many things.

I ruminate on telling him how sick I feel to this day that his father and so many others died in those damn mines when they didn't have to. How much I hate the Games and all they represent, how much it hurts to see your own mother reduced to a withered shell because they murdered her sister. My mouth snaps shut when I remember he knows enough about mothers and loss. My other reasons are too close to the one topic I know we will never approach...Katniss Everdeen.

So I find easier (if equally dangerous) ground.  
>"Censorship. Everything they keep from us and everything we gloss over. They rewrote the history books, then even the novels. They destroyed years of art and archaeology to make sure the truth was buried forever and killed anyone who stood in their way. How are we supposed to know where we're going – how to get rid of them – when we don't know where we've been? They've made us useless and cowardly and I hate it." I finish, gulping.<p>

I'm vaguely aware that this is probably the longest speech I've made in years.

He says nothing, but simply folds his arms and stares at me with something interesting but unrecognisable in his eyes. I busy myself with lighting the bonfire, uncomfortable with so much individual attention but excited by the fact that he listened.

...

I grab my paint box along with as many paintings as I can carry and slowly begin to make my way to the very end of the field we call a garden. He follows, grabbing the rest of the paintings and relieving me of a few of the larger frames when I struggle to keep my balance. I smile warmly as I thank him, desperate to encourage this version of the boy I must learn to trust.

"Is there anything you aren't good at, Princess?" he breaks the silence snidely as we stroll lazily deeper into the darkness.

It's always the same with him, one step forward five steps back. I sigh. It amazes me a little that he's refrained from asking where the hell we're trekking to past midnight with a bunch of strange paintings.

"Everything useful." He smiles at that. It's small, but the feeling of warmth and triumph reminds me of another grouchy Seam resident I occasionally coaxed a rare smile from.

We eventually reach the back shed and set down our cargo. He leans casually against the side of the tiny structure, watching me intently as I strike a match and throw it on the pile of dry wood and bracken by the fence.

The flames leap to life quicker than usual, and for a moment I'm transfixed by the way the flames play on his features. His exposed, folded forearms and bored face darken, but warm to a golden hue. The shadows lick and dance along his jaw and down the grey shirt he's wearing stretched against his upper arms and chest while the light catches flecks of a warm brown in his impossibly dark hair. That same light reflects in his steady eyes melting them to silver, and I forget I ever wanted to draw Gale Hawthorne.

I want to _paint_ him. I'd never seen so many colours in one person, and despite said person being an incorrigible ass, I'm mesmerised.

He shifts uncomfortably and I'm momentarily smug at the thought of turning the tables, until his glare bores through any pleasure I felt at his expense. I grab one of the smaller paintings and snap it over my knee, throwing it into the flames. Gale leaps from his post and grabs my wrist, staring bewildered at the crumbling canvas as I stare at him, equally baffled by his reaction.

"What the hell Princess?" he demands, his hand surprisingly soft compared to his long, work calloused fingers. Unsettled, I yank it from his grasp and pick up another.

"What, Gale? Did you think I was lighting the fire for ambience and hanging the pictures on the trees for the birds to admire?"

He splutters, outraged.

"Why would you destroy something so...something you made?"

"Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in for these? Plus, I won't let them have these, they're mine."

"No one gets to have them if they're burnt to a crisp!" he huffs. I hope desperately that he forgot the first half of my retort but I have no such luck.

"Hang on, what do you mean by 'trouble' Princess?" his flaring nostrils tell me he isn't about to back down this time. I move to throw another painting into the fire but he deftly intercepts it.

"What does this bird mean? I never realised before but it's the same as the one on your pin. If this symbol is dangerous then why would you give it to Katniss to wear in the arena? I thought you were her friend!" he yells.

"No Gale you don't understand, it's not dangerous for her...it's a sign of...i-it's the symbol for...it's complicated." I stutter.

"It's all over your paintings, your book is full of them. Tell me what it means! I thought we were supposed to be working together, but you won't even tell me what I'm risking my neck for!"

"For Katniss!" I screech, finally losing my temper. "You can't bulldoze me Gale Hawthorne. I told you, it's complicated."

"Right of course, I forgot that we Seam rats aren't quite sophisticated enough for your lofty plans. We should just button up and follow the proletariat off the cliff like lemmings, right? You're as bad as those Capitol jerks that employ your father!"

I reel backwards as though he struck me. Something like guilt flashes in his eyes but I no longer envy the colour.

"They're just paintings Gale" I whisper almost inaudibly, bone tired of these endless misunderstandings.

"Then why create something just to ruin it?" he snaps, running his fingers agitatedly through his unruly hair.

"Because I want to believe that one day I'll be able to hang these somewhere public. Not under my name or anyone else's, but just as proof that we're free to think what we want and have some semblance of control over our existence. You understand that, I _know_ you do. You want freedom to create as much as I do." My fists are clenched and I'm shaking from head to toe.

Somehow I'd managed to convince myself that working with Gale would be a good thing. Something that brought unity and change. If the merchants and the seamfolk saw Gale and I working together I'd thought they would see that truly we aren't any different, that we want the same things. Now I can barely believe how naive I was. Here we are in a back field by a roaring fire, proving every stereotype and prejudice forced on us from birth _true_.

It's already more than I can bear but he can't resist pushing me further.

"You want to be free to paint whatever pictures you like? I want to be free to provide for my family and not lose anymore best friends to madmen like Snow."

That is the absolute last straw.

Somehow during the blazing few seconds of rage we've gotten impossibly close. I realise with embarrassment that I'm on my toes, craning my neck to meet his eyes because if I wasn't my nose would touch his chest. His impossibly broad shoulders towering over me and the blazing silver eyes full of unjustified frustration boring into me from such a great height make me even angrier. I turn on my heels and stomp the two strides to my paints, pick up my favourite red and walk calmly back to my previous spot, swirling the brush in the pot thoughtfully.

He opens his mouth to speak, no doubt to continue his tirade of abuse, but stops open mouthed as I reach up and touch the tip of the brush to the middle of his hairline.

He stands stock still, his eyes crossing comically to follow the brush as I paint a big deliberate stripe from his forehead to his chin. I shiver a little when the brush touches his lips but disguise it by stepping back to admire my handiwork, chewing the end o the brush then thoughtfully filling out a spot I missed on his chin.

He doesn't move an inch but his eyes are now fixed on mine, full of nothing but pure shock.

"Goodnight Gale." I say sweetly, turning to continue feeding my bonfire. I hear the snap of the frame in his first and the sound of it hurtling to the ground. I don't hear him leave but I sneak a glance in time to see his rigid frame storming in the direction of the Seam.

"See you tomorrow, Princess." I whisper for him, rolling my eyes.

_**A/N: I wasn't sure about posting this chapter, I feel like it makes Gale seem like he has multiple personalities. I'm trying to convey how torn he is between his own rigid preconceptions and the Madge he's slowly getting to know, but I'd love to hear if you have any criticism/comments about how I'm doing it.**_

_**Also, the next chapter will have more meat to it I promise! It will include an important (and hopefully amusing) development in the trio's attempts at resistance, and Darius will feature heavily. I apologise again for the long delay in updates, the next chapter will be posted in the few days as I'm now off for summer! Yaaaay :)**_

_**P.S The song Madge is making an idiot of herself to is "All Right Now" by Free. A total CLASSIC. I am sad to say that I drew on personal experience to write that scene *shivers*.**_


	10. Lucky Denver Mint : Part 1

_**A/N: I was reading a Harry Potter fic the other day and had a wee thought. How do you feel about the multiple P.O.V's in chapters? If it's reads disjointedly I would consider changing chapter to chapter instead of halfway through. I personally like writing both of their opinions on different scenes, but I can see how it might make the flow a bit strange or repetitive. Let me know! :) **_

.

Chapter 10: Lucky Denver Mint : Part 1

.

_Madge's P.O.V_

It's been exactly fourteen hours and thirty-six minutes since I saw it, but the horrified expression on Gale's paint covered face is still making me grin. Ahhh, sweet sweet revenge. Serves him right for not knocking the frame like a gentleman does when...er...entering a lady's quarters through the window. _Not_ that it's at all possible to mistake Gale Hawthorne for a gentleman. My blood boils when I think of all the things he said to me last night, all that crap about the proletariat and lemmings. I suppose I could have told him about the Mockingjay, but then I would have had to explain how I know about the resistance and reveal my role in sending our mutual best friend to her certain death. _I'll have to tell him someday though, _I think with a sigh.

He deserves to know the truth about me, about how badly I failed the Everdeens and how badly I failed him by default.

Throughout high school, I learnt the advantages of being invisible. When I was younger it had hurt that none of the other kids (town or seam) had wanted to play with me or include me, but as I grew older I started to appreciate my place in life. When you fade into the background, it throws everything else into sharper detail. I learnt to observe undetected, and notice words, feelings, looks and behaviour others ignore. That's not to say I always liked what I saw. From my place in the backdrop of District 12 I saw the way those in the Seam suffered in poverty and despair. I saw how girls as young as fifteen summers sold themselves to the head peacekeeper to stay alive and how their weeping mothers never stopped them. I saw how the kind baker did what he could to help those on the verge of starvation and how his doomed son's eyes followed Katniss Everdeen everywhere she went. I saw Gale's hatred and Katniss' determined survival, it's no secret these days that they're meant be. For years I jealously witnessed the unshakeable strength of their friendship and loyalty, but I never saw love. When I heard all the talk a few months ago about how they were finally together I felt stupid for not noticing that my only friend had feelings for someone. As for Gale...

_Of course he's in love with her_. She's beautiful, brave and - I'm almost certain - completely oblivious. She represents everything he holds dear, an unwitting symbol of rebellion before she even began playing their game. Plus, despite his cutting words and harsh judgement, after seeing those intense grey eyes reflected by fire and moonlight both, after feeling his skin, watching him cry for his father all those years ago and hearing of the way he still relentlessly cares for his family...I know now that I could never fault anyone for being hopelessly in love with Gale Hawthorne. I shift uncomfortably at the presence of such strange thoughts. It's childish, but despite everything I can't help feeling decidedly reluctant to rush the boy with the snares out of my life for good.

...

A sharp knock on the door of the 'History of Panem' class I'm suffering through interrupts my personal guilt train and startles me back to reality. A ridiculously cute little first year boy pops up from behind the door and rushes to the teacher's desk to deliver a note. She nods briskly and dismisses him with a lofty thank you.

"Madge Undersee?" She lilts in her silly Capitol accent.

I raise me hand, noting bitterly that I have been in her class for three years, get straight A's and participate regularly yet she still wouldn't recognise me from a fly on the wall.

"My dear, oh my poor dear, I'm afraid there is an emergency at home that requires your immediate presence!"

My eyes snap up. _Mom_. She's flapping a note from her desk so I launch myself out from behind my mine, grab it and dash out the door. My frantic eyes blink away a few frightened tears as I rush to the exit. It's been so long since Mom's had an episode that I'd actually managed to trick myself into believing she was getting better. _Every damn time._ I chide myself as I wipe my cheeks furiously. I'm sprinting by the time I'm out the gates until something wraps around my waist and I screech to a halt with a small "oomph". I look up wildly and see smudges of red and blue through my blurry eyes.

"Darius?"

"Jeez Undersee, those little legs are faster than they look. What's wrong, you don't actually have a dog do you?"

"W-what?" I ask distractedly as I clumsily pull the tendrils of hair sticking to my wet face from my eyes so that his concerned face comes into view. "My mom Darius, I have to go right now!" I try to take off again but he holds my wrist.

"Slow down Undersee, what are you talking about? Has something happened?" this brings a fresh torrent of full on, gut-wrenching sobs.

"I-I got a n-note, it's my m-mom there's an emergency she's s-s-sick..." I stutter, trying simultaneously to calm my breathing and pull myself from his gentle grip.

"Oh god Undersee, didn't you read the note?"

"What?" he takes it from my shaking fingers, a guilty look on his face and opens it so I can read.

_Madge sweetheart,_

_I'm so sorry to have to tell you at school but I'm afraid our beloved Fido has fetched his last bone. The suspect in this canine murder most foul is said to be tall, handsome and ginger with huge muscles. The peacekeepers have begun the investigation but we need you home at the family mansion to share in our time of grief. Meet me at the gates in 10 my darling, be strong._

_Love,_

_Daddy._

For a moment I just stare at the paper then let out a shaky laugh.

"Y-you?"

"Yeah...er...sorry, I had no idea you'd get so upset, I needed to see you guys and I thought you'd get the joke..."

I laugh properly this time and he stares at me warily as though I'm mad. I suppose I must look it too, but it's all so absurd. Of all the ridiculous ways to get me out of class he picks 'my dog was murdered'? By a handsome overly muscular ginger? Tears are still rolling down my cheeks but I'm now almost hysterical with laughter. Eventually I calm down a little and pat him on the arm consolingly.

"Oh Darius, I'm so sorry. I should have read the note, I worked myself into a state over nothing. Has anyone ever told you that you have an insane imagination?"

"No Undersee, I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't know your teacher would say it was an emergency..."

"Stop please," I interrupt him by tugging on his sleeve because he's pulling painfully on the hair at the nape of his neck, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself.

I open my mouth to explain when suddenly something incredibly warm moves into my personal space and large hands slide past my jaw to gently cup the sides of my face, tilting it upwards until my watery eyes meet soft grey ones. My mouth drops open a little because Gale Hawthorne's face is now inches from mine and he's tenderly brushing my hair back with deft fingers, carefully stroking my damp cheeks with calloused thumbs.

"What is it Princess, what happened?" he almost growls, his eyes wide and frantic, searching mine for something I can't identify. I can only gape at him, stunned as his gentle touches do nothing to slow the pounding in my chest or the rushing of blood in my ears. The way the boy who hates me murmurs the nickname I despise is sending shivers down my spine as his fingers burn a trail of fire through my hair and across my face. He looks _concerned_. Eventually I choke out a confused, "Gale?" and he seems to remember himself, dropping my face like it were a red hot poker and taking three large steps backwards leaving me feeling oddly bereft.

For a moment the three of us stand awkwardly, Darius is looking as confused as I feel and Gale scowls his patented glower whilst folding his arms and widening his stance. He draws himself to a dignified height whilst turning decidedly red around the ears. The colour is gone in seconds and I'm almost sure I imagined it – Gale Hawthorne does not blush.

Darius is still staring at Gale with an odd look on his face so I cough a little to clear the air. It works on Darius, at least.

"Right, er...Undersee, Gale, glad you both could make it."

"Yeah, I was cat burgled" mutters Gale wryly, "literally." His tone betrays exactly what he thinks of Darius' reconnaissance methods. I on the other hand have difficulty stifling a giggle.

"I gave poor Undersee quite the scare. That bimbo History teacher told her it was an emergency and brainless here didn't stop to read my well thought out description of a death in the family..." he trails off clearly trying for humour, but the guilt permeating his features gives him away. He reaches forward and gently takes my hand, lowering his eyes so that they level with mine.

"I really am sorry, Undersee. I'll think of something better next time, I promise." He looks so sad and sheepish. I squeeze his hand reassuringly and open my mouth to tell him off for feeling guilty but Gale butts in, all guns blazing as usual.

"You should have thought of that, dumbass! You must have known her Ma gets sick, no wonder she jumped to conclusions!" he prods Darius in the chest, hard.

"Hey!" I snap, turning red and placing myself in the small space between their equally puffed out chests and shoving Gale's hand away. "I can speak for myself Hawthorne, don't put words in my mouth! Darius wasn't to know I'd freak out like that, he needed to get us out of class somehow." Something like hurt flashes across Gale's face and is instantly replaced by a formidable scowl. Darius is looking a little too smug for my liking so I round on him, hands on hips.

"And YOU, you better have a good reason for pulling us out of school like that. It's conspicuous and I-I have a big test on Friday..." I finish lamely as Gale gives a large snort.

"_What?_" I resist stamping my foot. "Some of us do actually care about our grades you know."

"I'm sure you do Princess, with a bright future like yours to look forward to. I personally don't see how knowing the Pythagoras Theorem will help me better cut coal." He sneers.

"Ugh, you're impossible!"

"Now now kiddies," interrupts Darius, clapping Gale on the back and patting my shoulder. "No need to fight over your lessons, I'll have you back in no time at all. Don't you want to hear what I have to tell you? You're going to have to learn to get along for this task" he wags his finger, mockingly stern in an unwittingly accurate impression of my late Grandmother Undersee.

"Spit it out, Buckley." Gale huffs and I echo the sentiment.

"Come on, I'll tell you on the way there."

"Where's there?"

"The Hob."

_Gale's P.O.V_

I follow my chattering accomplices a few easy steps behind, close enough that I can hear the plan but far enough away that I'm not tempted to grab at Madge again. I scowl at the thought. Where the hell did that come from anyway? It's like I was sleepwalking from the moment she tore past me in the school corridors until the fog cleared and those warm azure eyes were piercing mine with pink-faced confusion, finally reassuring me that she was unharmed. Most surprising was the clenching in my chest when I saw her hysterical in Darius' arms, the blind anger that came second only to making sure she was alright. I reason it away as my protective instincts as an older brother, but as much as Madge pisses me off I would be lying if I said I had ever looked at her like a sister.

My anger towards Darius isn't helped by the way he continuously snakes his arm around her shoulders. I scowl as he smiles triumphantly for a moment, then smirk as she swats his hand away, listening intently to his plans for us.

He doesn't deserve her, damnit. I know he wouldn't hurt her on purpose, Darius is a good guy, but everyone knows Madge's mom gets sick a lot. Even Mrs E. saw her a few times to do what she could but there was nothing to be done. "Heart sick" Ma called it, but I never did find out what she meant.

I can't help watching her now for any trace of the agony that had wrenched her features, hoping fervently that I would never be the cause of Madge Undersee's pain. Her small fingers tuck a wild strand of hair behind her ears, then reach down to smooth her dress. I sigh and shake my head in disbelief because she looks so innocent and breakable yet can curse like a sailor, climb a tree like a monkey and run as fast as any guy I know.

I was so damn angry at her this morning. She made a complete fool out of me the other night, and _no one_ makes a fool of Gale Hawthorne and lives to tell the tale. When she tore past me, her eyes wild and damp, all that fell away until I didn't recognise what was left. It took her all of five minutes of course to be back to her usual obnoxious self, and it was so good to see her wild eyed from anger as opposed to fear that I goaded her a little just to watch the sparks.

"_What are you doing to me, Princess?_" I mutter under my breath and take two comfortable steps to catch them, subtly inserting myself between their animated exchange.

"So this friend of yours you want to recruit..."

"Mac," Darius prompts, sounding a little exasperated. "His name is Mac. He's a trained mechanic, grew up in D3."

"Right, sorry. How did he end up here in 12?"

"He doesn't talk about it much, but he must have pissed of someone pretty high up to be banished to 12 to work on the mining machinery. Everyone knows that's a dud job they give to unfortunates from the favoured Districts who've fallen from grace.

"You mean like the clerks at the Justice Building?"

"Exactly, and like the Good Morning Panem reporters."

"Ah. So how do you know he'll help us?"

"Well...er...that's the thing..."

"Spit it out, Buckley," I choose this moment to re-enter the conversation, echoing my earlier sentiment because the way Darius is guiltily pulling at the hair on the back of his neck is making me uneasy.

"Look, he just might need a little...convincing is all. He's a great guy, and I know for a fact that he hates the Capitol. Plus, we could really use his expertise. We need someone with some technical know-how on our side or we'll never get anything done."

"Darius..." I begin warningly, but Madge beats me to it, halting and placing her hands on her hips bossily.

"So, let me get this straight. You took us out of school to talk to someone who _might _agree to help with the resistance, but _might_ turn us in to the Capitol?"

"No," he replies emphatically. "I know we can trust him 100%, I just think he might need some persuasion. After all, look what happened the last time he put a toe out of line. We won't get a second chance with this guy so we need to handle the situation delicately".

"You mean we need to impress him" Madge snorts, rolling her eyes.

"Well, yes."

"And how the hell do you propose we do that? We've got nothing to show for ourselves, just useless plans." I cut in.

"For now! We'll have more than just plans if we get Mac on side!" I can see he's getting hacked off, but for once Princess Madge is right, this is absurd.

"Ugh, give it a rest guys. Your heightened testosterone levels are polluting my air. Darius, I assume you have a plan?"

"Right you are, Undersee. First we need to grab his attention, that's where you come in Gale. I've lost enough times to you to know you're a total shark when it comes to card games."

"You mean gambling?" Madge asks.

"Precisely. The guy's an addict, barely leaves the table to eat or sleep."

"Wow. Sounds like he'll be a lot of help, this one." I retort.

"Look he can't always have been like this. I think if he had something to stop for he would, he just needs to know his options."

"Ok, so Gale wows him with his gambling prowess," she shoots me a disapproving look which I return in kind, "then what?"

"Then once we have his attention, we persuade him to join us. That's where _you_ come in, Undersee."

She cocks her head to the side throwing unruly golden curls over her right shoulder and raises an eyebrow questioningly. I chuckle because I know exactly where he's going with this.

"Er..." he looks to me for help but I make my face go blank, feigning innocence. I'm happy to play cards but he's on his own with this one.

"Come on Undersee, don't make me say it. You're...you. He's ...a guy,and y'know...not blind."

I watch amused as Madge turns a beautiful shade of red and her eyes narrow dangerously.

Are you suggesting that I _flirt _with a grown man in order to dupe him into joining a life-threatening resistance effort?"

"Yeah exactly!" he smiles happily, naively pleased that she finally cottoned on. I shake my head and snicker. Clearly Darius doesn't know Madge as well as he claims.

"That is unethical!" she screeches, wiping the smile from his cheery face. "I will NOT use my...my..._feminine wiles _to trick someone into helping us, it isn't fair. People need to know what they're getting themselves into, we did!" I've never seen my good friend look so flustered in all the six months I've known him.

"Plus," she sniffs "It would never work anyway..." she trails off, staring at the ground.

Darius and I exchange a glance that says 'yeah, right' and snort simultaneously at the thought of any red blooded male resisting this tiny blonde firecracker. She looks up sharply, making a beeline for Darius' face. This time when he looks to me for assistance, I can't resist.

"Oh it would work alright, Princess." I smirk.

She pauses comically mid cuff and flushes pink, a shade significantly different to the one she turns when she's mad. I note, amused.

She turns abruptly and marches in the direction of the Seam, calling over her shoulder.

"I'm still not flirting with him, you jerks."

We crack up laughing and follow her to our first real challenge as the District 12 resistance, The Hob.

_**A/N: Next chapter will include the confrontation with Mac! Will they get him to help, or realise they'd be better off without him? You'll find out when I post the next chapter midweek! :) Please let me know what you thought, I so appreciate your opinions on the pace of the plot (too slow?) the characters, and what you'd like to see in the coming chapters! Hope you enjoyed.**_


	11. Lucky Denver Mint : Part 2

_**A/N: A big thank you to everyone who reviewed the last couple of chapters, I really appreciate it! Here's Part 2 :)**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the excerpt from Peeta's interview, or anything else you might recognise from the Hunger Game trilogy. **_

_**.**_

Chapter 11: Lucky Denver Mint : Part 2

.

_Gale's P.O.V_

My face splits into a wide grin as we reach the top of Badon hill, where my favourite place inside the boundaries of District 12 is thrown into view.

"The Hob!" Madge exclaims, standing stock still, her bright eyes shining with barely concealed excitement as she drinks in the hustle and bustle of colour and noise laid out before us. Darius and I share an amused grin at the way she's now bouncing on her toes as though trying to take flight. I mean sure, the Hob's great and all, but it's nothing special. The way Princess is tugging impatiently on the hem of her dress and running nervous hands through her hair you'd think we were visiting the President's Palace.

"I've never been to the Hob before...my Dad wouldn't let me anywhere near a crowd." she murmurs, chewing her bottom lip. I stare transfixed by this unconscious action, then lean forward to whisper in her ear, startling her as intended.

"What's the matter princess...scared?"

She shoots me a glare and huffs a few paces forward, but still waits for Darius and I to catch up this time before starting towards the Hob in earnest.

As we enter the main square full of bustling stalls, my mind drifts back to the first time I visited the Hob to trade after my father died. I remember being so scared that my palms were sweating. Scared of the traders, scared of the crowds, scared I wouldn't sell anything and leave my brothers and the new baby hungry. I grin at the memory of how Greasy Sae took me under her wing, showing me the ropes and making sure no one fleeced me. I'd soon realised that there was nothing to be afraid of here.

As soon as we reach the first colourful stall, people begin to shout our names. They call out jokes at our expense, ask how we've been and what we have to trade. We take it in our stride as always, Darius bantering with the cloth weaver's wife as I wave to various loyal wild dog customers. I'm enjoying the friendly chaos as we stroll towards the main tent, when my chest collides gently with something soft.

I look down to berate Madge for not looking where she's going, then take in her appearance. Her eyes are wide and aglow with fascination, but she's twisting her hands together and shaking slightly. As an experiment in case I'm reading her wrong, I keep walking at my own leisurely pace. Sure enough, she moves forward but keeps her back pressed near to my chest, discreetly drawing herself as close to me as possible whilst her fingers fidget with the hem of her dress. I stare down at her, attempting and failing to calm the acute rush of protectiveness that assaults my entire being.

There she goes again, damnit. Surprising me.

I don't recognise this version of the Mayor's daughter I never dared get to know. This Madge Undersee is overwhelmed by crowds and frightened by new people, so far removed from the assertive young woman I've grown used to trading banter with.

_This Madge Undersee needs me._

The thought brings a heady rush of a type of pride I've never felt but could definitely grow accustomed to. All too soon the feeling is gone as fast as it arrived, and the arm I boldly reached out to carefully draw her closer hesitates. "Stupid", I mutter fiercely under my breath.

This is the _Mayor's daughter._ Sure she's a little nervous to mingle with the commoners, but that doesn't mean she wants some filthy Seam rat pawing her expensive clothes.

I wrench my traitorous hand back to my side, scowling, when all of a sudden we encounter a dense crowd around Bruce Fieldman the tanner's tent. My hand instinctually drifts to the small of her back, resting there so gently that I doubt she even feels it. That doesn't matter though because I have what I need, I feel it. Gathering my courage, I subtly slip one finger through the belt loop of the cornflower blue waistcoat she's worn over her cream dress, keeping a gentle hold of her in case I lose her in this crowd. When my hand bumps her back a few times I panic and consider moving it, but without so much as a backwards glance her own tiny hand slips backwards to finger the edge of the loose shirt I'm wearing slung over another. I feel inexplicably warm all of a sudden and smile to myself at her quiet reassurance. Guess she mustn't mind after all.

...

I nudge Darius who's walking a few feet in front of me because the crowd is getting pretty rowdy. Fights at the Hob are becoming more and more frequent these days as the poverty this end of the District gets worse. Of course the taxes taken for the Games don't help much either, the folks who come to trade here are good people but their children are slowly starving.

Darius sets his face to an impassive mask, gives me a curt nod of understanding and begins to shout in an authoritative tone for the crowd to break things up. I feel a little bad for pushing him because I know he hates pulling the Peacekeeper card, especially here, but I have Madge to think about and they wouldn't listen to me.

Despite his best efforts, in the following sixty seconds all hell breaks loose.

"What the fuck are _you_ gonna do about it, Peacekeeper?" a man I don't recognise spits on Darius' boots, hissing his title like a dirty word.

"Look mate, I'm just saying that you can't threaten Bruce here because he won't lower his prices any further. Everyone knows he cuts us the best deal possible while still making a profit to feed his own family, right?" he looks to the crowd for some support but is met with a stony silence.

"We've put up with scum like you for too long 'round here, Buckley," the man continues as a few men growl their assent. Before we have a chance to react, the first man throws a punch at Darius whilst the others jump forward to hold him down. Soon the entire crowd throws itself into the skirmish, anger meeting fear blow for blow.

Without thinking I leap forward to help him pound the guy who threw the first punch, remembering too late that I have Madge with me. I turn as soon as I come to my senses, yelling her name just in time to catch sight of her panicked face moving further and further into the now brawling crowd. Fear grips my chest like ice, and for the next ten minutes I fight my way through the chaos of punches and tackles towards the end of the square and the last place I saw her golden curls disappear. I'm so frantic that I barely register Darius gripping my forearms.

"Where's Madge?" he chokes through the blood filling his mouth from a burst lip.

"I-I lost her, damnit! I lost her..." I rake my hands through my hair, yelling her name over and over.

"Gale!" Darius interrupts, "Calm down, we'll find her. You said she went that way?" I nod distractedly. "Then she probably just ran into the main tent, we did tell her that's where we were going."

"You're right."

We take off at a run to the huge camel brown tent that holds the food stalls, the bar and the gambling corner. We ask at a few stalls before someone finally points us to the South corner behind the barrier, a few feet from the gambling area hidden by more camel canvas. I open my mouth to suggest turning back and searching the square again when I hear it. Hear her.

She's laughing, and it's like nothing I've ever heard before in my life. Her joy is infectious even through my worried haze, and I allow myself a small smile as I push myself through milling traders towards the sound, pulling Darius along with me. When I round the corner I can't help but stare at the strange sight in front of my disbelieving eyes.

Visions of her lying bruised and bloody in a corner somewhere disappear when I see her perched primly on the front counter of a very familiar stall, laughing heartily along with none other than old Greasy Sae. They're clutching at each other in mirth at some unknown joke, and I'm only brought back to reality by Darius clapping me on the shoulder, grinning and saying "told you we'd find her!" and yelling to her,

"Oi, Undersee! Thank goodness, Hawthorne here was having kittens. We were beginning to assume you were dead in a ditch somewhere, what gives?" for all his joking, it hadn't escaped my notice that his already pale face had turned ashen when I'd admitted she was missing. Now his face is alight with good humour and he's moving towards her with surprising speed.

Her head snaps up as I begin to jog to follow him, glaring at his comment.

"Gale," she breathes, hopping off the counter. We both stand stock still as I cautiously search her eyes for any sign of pain or injury. As always, they're curious and clear as she meets my questioning gaze head on, unwavering and solid.

I open my mouth to make some smart remark, hoping to stop myself from repeating my idiotic display from this morning but before I get a single word out, she's taking the few steps between us at a run and throwing herself into my arms with so much force that I have to take a step back to counter it. In that moment, she's everywhere. Filling my senses like the smell and sound of the woods after a heavy rainfall.

I'm slightly stunned by the sensation of having her in my arms so unexpectedly but I recover quickly, wrapping them firmly around her small waist and smoothing the ends of her curls against her back. The embrace somehow says everything I can't - or won't. It's not particularly comforting, or lustful like the many others I've shared with various D12 conquests. It's born simply of the acute need to feel her breath on my shoulder and her heartbeat increase against my chest. Despite this, I can't help but notice how her unintentional beauty sharpens painfully when viewed close up, blurring the edges of the world around her.

We stay like that for a few long seconds until Greasy Sae wolf whistles and shouts,

"Now now Margaret, you better put that boy down. You never know where he's been!" she cackles, and it's then that I catch sight of a very disgruntled looking Darius.

She lets go immediately, her face a deep shade of pink. I just raise my eyebrows at Old Sae, watching her innocently busy herself with chopping some meat.

"Margaret?" I murmur teasingly, turning my attention back to the blonde tornado still close enough to reach out and grab.

"I've been making friends." She grins, making my stomach flip.

"You're alright?" I touch a tiny cut on her forehead as she nods impatiently.

"Are you?" I ignore her in favour of searching her face for any further damage, so naturally she opens her mouth to demand an answer. I interrupt her because I'm not sure I'll have the nerve to apologise for much longer.

"I'm sorry I lost you, princess." I mumble, tugging gently on a lock of her hair and pushing it behind her ear, my thumb accidentally brushing her cheek. I have to suppress a shiver and drop my hand because I'm positive I've never felt anything so damn _soft._ She stares at me curiously for a moment, her wide azure eyes glued to mine like magnets before they darken ominously.

"Gale Hawthorne!" she takes a step back and places her hands on her hips. Uh-oh, here we go.

"Are you insinuating that I'm some sort of puppy you have to lead around in case it dashes off to fetch a toy you've thrown and gets itself run over?" she snorts incredulously.

"I like this one, Gale! She's got some balls on 'er." Greasy Sae interjects with a wink.

Madge shoots her a grin before continuing to lecture me and I sigh with relief because she's back to giving me sass, which means she really wasn't hurt after all.

"I'll have you know," she continues loftily, "That I held my own out there."

"It's true, I saw 'er threaten to smash a deck chair over a grown man's head!" yells Greasy, enthusiastically as Darius and I exchange horrified looks.

"Well...h-he grabbed my arm..." she reasons, looking exceedingly guilty.

"Remember what I told you about curbing those violent tendencies Undersee? Ignore it. I love a girl who can hold her own with a deck chair, very sexy." Darius quips.

"Oh!" she exclaims softly, clearly only just noticing him, I realise with a smirk. She rushes over and pulls him gently into a one arm hug, instinctually careful of his twisted shoulder. The smirk is wiped off my face as she begins to gently wipe his bloody mouth with her sleeve.

His eyes fly wide as she steps close to him to inspect the wound, looking at her like she's a long drink of water on a very hot day. My fists clench inexplicably and my chest tightens. Does she really have to stand that close? Can't she see he's enjoying her innocent ministrations just a little too much? _Hell._

"That's some burst lip, Buckley. Does it hurt?"

"Not too much," he smiles wanly, milking it for all it's worth.

I roll my eyes, which prompts Greasy Sae to erupt into more barking laughter.

"So I see you've met the most beautiful woman in all of 12 then, eh princess?" I ask, moving behind the counter to throw an arm around Old Sae, pettily hoping to distract her from her patient.

"I did." She grins. "I got hungry waiting for you guys so I bought us some stew." Darius' face falls comically as she drops her hand from his face and walks over to the stall, picking up two servings of stew waiting on the counter and handing them to us. I hadn't noticed how hungry I was until the steam from the food wafted up to my nose. I left without breakfast this morning because I'd wanted to hunt before school, and Darius pulled us out of the period before lunch so a meal was long overdue. I mumble my thanks, embarrassed by her casual generosity and begin to shovel the stew into my mouth. She does the same with her own portion, clearly enjoying the simple fare.

"I hung around to pester Old Sae for her secret ingredient...this is delicious!" she smiles, her mouth full of the praiseworthy concoction. "But she won't give it up no matter what I try." She pretends to pout.

Greasy Sae smiles at her fondly before shooting me a look that clearly states Madge is better off not knowing what she's happily swallowing, so I change the subject. We banter back and forth as we finish our lunch and I marvel at how the girl who not half an hour ago was frightened of the Hob now looks remarkably like she belongs.

_But she doesn't belong_, I have to remind myself.

Not to the Seam, not to the Hob, and sure as hell not to a guy from the wrong side of town. I repeat these truths over and over like a worn out mantra, because the way she's laughing makes me want to forget everything I thought I knew about the stuck-up princess of District 12.

_Madge's P.O.V_

Laughing along with Darius and Greasy Sae, I can barely believe how nervous this place made me. Now I just feel like I'm _home_. I sneak a glance at the surly hunter lurking in the corner with his arms folded, a small smile playing at corners of his mouth. It's interesting to see him in his element like this, he's so much more relaxed this side of town. His jaw no longer twitches, his muscular arms lie relaxed across his chest and his hands are no longer in the familiar fists he makes when he's hurt or angry. I can still feel the protective warmth of those hands on my back in the square, and how much I enjoyed his deft fingers burning a hole in my clothing.

I wonder vaguely if he might consider me a friend now as I do him, the thought of having three real friends making me thrill internally.

It's a happy thought, but with Gale glaring at me from the corner it doesn't take me long to remember the real reason he and I are even acquaintances...Katniss. For some reason it makes me sick to my stomach to know in my heart that if she hadn't been reaped, Gale wouldn't ever have given me the time of day.

I smile at Darius, who is currently gesticulating wildly to illustrate some ridiculous story he's probably told everyone ten times already. Unlike Gale who wandered into my life like some sort of beautiful mythical character from my favourite books, hell bent on revenge, Darius is undeniably real.

It calms the churning in my stomach when I realise that no matter what, he would have found me. No Katniss Everdeen was necessary for him to bring me home and stick around as though he cared. As I sigh contentedly at the sudden companionship surrounding me, my breath catches painfully in my chest as I realise that for one terrible moment I was actually glad I failed to volunteer. That it was Katniss who went in my stead.

Pulling my knees up under my chin, I realise that those kinds of thoughts are why I don't belong here with brave hunters, peacekeepers who rise above their pasts and women who work into their seventies to keep their families fed. I am still a product of my beginnings. It hurts knowing that Gale was right about me, but the fact that I resent my dying friend for the few relationships she dared to trust reminds me I have a long way to go before I'm the person I want to be. As I observe Gale and Darius exchanging mock insults whilst carefully moving some heavy boxes inside for Old Sae, I find comfort in knowing that I am in exactly the right place to learn to change.

My newfound focus prompts me to interrupt Darius' long and disturbing story about a quiet Monday night's patrol, the fishmonger's daughter and a very large boulder - probably saving Gale from images he would _not _ want burnt into his brain.

"Darius, hadn't we better get to the gambling tent and try to speak to Mac? It's what we're here for after all."

"You're right Undersee, let's get to it." He smiles cheerfully.

Gale nods his agreement, but I pointedly avoid his gaze. As we walk towards the formidable looking tent that holds our saving grace or our inevitable doom, Darius briefs us further on the roles we're to play. We had difficulty coming up with a plausible excuse for me to be present during the game, so we settled for the unimaginative scenario: I am Darius' girlfriend. All I really have to do at first is sit around like a useless lump of coal until after the game, at which point I agreed to talk to Mac. Just talk, no flirting, no gimmicks. I was completely adamant about that part.

...

Soon the three of us are standing shoulder to shoulder, staring at the canvas separating us from our first real act as the resistance of D12. I look to my left and right at the wildly different men flanking me, accidentally catching Gale's eye as he gently smoulders from above.

We aren't much, but if we don't start this, who will?

Darius seems to echo my silent sentiment. "Right," he starts. "This is it guys, no turning back. It's no secret that what we're about to attempt is dangerous, so if you want out...now would be the time to say so."

Gale and I glare back at him, eyes flashing dangerously. On seeing our reactions he holds his hands up with a laugh. "Just checking!" he chuckles, motioning for us to stay put whilst pulling aside the canvas and entering the tent, presumably to check Mac hadn't left during the skirmish.

As we wait, my eyes find Gale's. I'm hoping to share at least an eye-roll with my reluctant ally, but the liquid fire that dances in their silver depths stuns me into submission. His face glows russet in the low light of the tent, and his perpetually messy hair sticks up in places from where his agitated hands have raked through it repeatedly.

Without thinking, I raise my hand to gently smooth a particularly wild section, marvelling quietly at my own audacity. His eyes close briefly as my fingertips make gentle contact with his scalp, causing my mouth to fall open slightly as his emits a soft groan. The unmistakable sound of pleasure takes me by surprise and I let out a small gasp. His eyes shoot open to study mine, dark and soft with something I couldn't begin to decipher. Suddenly remembering myself, I snatch my hand away as though burnt, my face heating rapidly.

I can feel his eyes on my burning face for what seems like hours before Darius reappears, blissfully oblivious to the awkward tension left in his wake.

"He's here. Everyone still in?" he grins devilishly.

I nod firmly, returning his grin and sheepishly glancing sideways to gauge Gale's response.

"Well I don't know about the District princess here, but I've got something to fight for." He mutters coldly, his eyes back to the hardened steel I'm used to.

With those few quiet words, he succinctly reminds me exactly how he'll always see me. How he _chooses_ to see me even when I'm standing right by his side ready to burn with him, ready to lose myself in flames for the belief we share in the pursuit of something better. The worst part is, I don't blame him at all. Trying not to let the bitter disappointment show on my face, I spare him no backwards glance as Darius grabs my hand and pulls me into the tent. Let the games begin...

...

"Here she is boys, the owner of my heart," Darius throws an arm round me and winks at the three men sitting round a green felt-covered octagonal table swigging from bottles of varying shapes and sizes. I'm itching to roll my eyes at his god awful lines but instead I lay it on thick, snuggling into the shoulder of his white uniform and giggling like I hear the girls at school do. His eyes grow wide at the sound and he begins to lean down towards me with an odd, strangled sort of look on his face so I extricate myself from his arm, shooting him a confused glance before extending my hand to the nearest mystery man.

"Hello, I'm Madge." I give the oldest looking man with bulging muscles and formidable beard a shy smile. He must be around my father's age, but the deep lines etched into his face suggest otherwise. With a flash of his Seam grey eyes he ignores my outstretched hand, folding his arms across his broad chest and narrowing his eyes.

"I know who you are" he says simply. I swallow thickly as Darius comes to my rescue.

"This is Alec. He's an overseer at the mines, one of the good ones." He claps him soundly on the back.

"What did you go and tell her that for?" Alec hisses. "If she's banging you to spy for her Daddy you just gave her my head on a plate!"

My blood begins to boil, this guy doesn't even know me! It makes me mad that his words find their mark in my own pride but it angers me further to hear how he's speaking to Darius. Aren't they supposed to be friends? Darius certainly seems to think so.

"Alright Alec, that's enough," he begins, his green eyes darkening dangerously as he jumps to my defence. I interrupt with the first thing I can think of.

"If I was banging him for information, I would have lost interest months ago." I deadpan, hoping Alec and the others didn't notice his jaw snap shut with an audible click. All eyes are on me, so I wind myself awkwardly around Darius's side, tracing circles on his chest with my forefinger. "Buckley here keeps me satisfied in..._other_ ways." I say in what I imagine to be a seductive purr, turning to arch an eyebrow at Alec, daring him to challenge me again.

The result is all I hoped it would be. Darius turns an impressive shade of red, Alec scowls and folds his arms – defeated – and a guffawing man with tight light brown curls and a wide cheery smile stands to offer his hand.

"I'm Bristel...and you milady, are a riot. Pleased to make your acquaintance." he winks. I shake his hand warmly, grinning sheepishly as I begin to lose my nerve. I gather my courage and turn to the man partially concealed by shadows, extending my hand once more.

He leans forward and takes my hand, revealing dark brown eyes solid with intelligence, set off by his ashen skin and framed by neat, jet black hair. He's much smaller than Alec and Bristel with almost delicate features, but he exudes the quiet power of someone completely aware of their fast-working mind.

"Mac, pleased to meet you. Sorry about Alec, we're all a bit wary of deception these days." His words are quiet and unaccusatory, but the way those dark eyes pierce my own make me gulp guiltily.

"It's nice to meet you too."

I then turn to Alec who actually looks a little remorseful, "It's alright, I understand." He nods curtly.

"Well," announced Darius, clapping his hands together loudly (Gale's signal). "Shall we get this party started? I don't know about you lot, but I brought my lucky charm." He waggles his eyebrows at me and again I have to fight the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes. At the exact moment he moves to wind his arms around my waist, a familiar gruff voice announces its owner's presence.

"You losers ready for round two?"

_Gale's P.O.V_

I return from retrieving the three fox pelts I caught at the beginning of the week just in time to hear my signal to enter. I sigh for a second, looking down at the fine pelts I may well be giving away in the next half hour. One has buckshot in the back (I'm nowhere near as good a shot as Katniss) but they would still fetch enough to buy one of the kids new shoes. I know they're the only plausible excuse for me to be back to the tables so soon after a win, but I'm pissed at Darius and Madge for not realising what these could cost me when they came up with their brilliant plan.

Speaking of which, going in with such a detailed plan doesn't sit right with me. It feels indirect and dishonest, two things even my worst enemies couldn't accuse me of being, but I trust Darius to help me help Katniss so I agree to play my part. I still don't really see how taking Mac's money will earn us any favours from him, but Darius assures me that to gain his attention and respect it's imperative that we win.

I enter quietly just in time to hear Darius' god awful pickup line, and to see Madge's poor attempt at a subtle escape from his wandering arms.

"You losers up for round two?" I drawl, holding up the furs to show them I'm serious. Bristel jumps up immediately to clap me on the back.

"Alright mate? You just missed Darius introducing us to his new girl." He winks as I suppress a grimace. "I give you, the lovely Madge Undersee," he grins, motioning to a very red Madge. I reach out my hand, which she takes lightly. She's nervous. Pressing her smooth hand in mine and using my thumb to draw a light circle on the back of her shaking palm, I simply say,

"We've met."

For some reason, those two words create an awkward silence with Madge and I at the centre. Darius coughs pointedly and I realise that I'm still holding her hand.

Coughing gruffly myself, I drop it and motion to the poker table, taking a deep steadying breath.

"Shall we?"

Bristel grins a little too knowingly whilst reclaiming his seat, but Alec and Mac simply start to set the board. Once we're all settled with a drink, I'm introduced briefly to Mac whilst Bristel deals.

Darius plays his part well, stopping every five seconds to whisper in Madge' ear or wrap one of his arms around her shoulders. Either that or he really did just get a terrible hand. He bets just enough gold to make sure the others mark him as a 'fish', and before long Alec is barely concealing a gleeful smile as he rakes in Darius' gold. Mac is completely silent, his eyes never wavering from his cards, his face relaxed but unreadable.

I wonder vaguely if princess' charms are truly able to breach the barrier of his calculating demeanour, then I catch sight of her tucking a long strand of her golden hair behind her ear with a small feminine sigh and relent. Poor guy doesn't stand a chance.

The next few cards I pick up are even more than I'd hoped for, and I do my best to focus on keeping my face neutral. An hour passes and all three pelts are on the table now. I'm suddenly acutely aware that if the game continues much longer I'll have to fold, killer hand or not. Just as the thought enters my mind, Alec swears loudly and throws his cards on the table.

"That was my last chance at a suit," he grumbles. "I fold."

Out of the corner of my eye I catch princess smirk vindictively at his back and arch my eyebrow. I'll have to ask for that particular story later. Darius and Bristel fold cheerfully in the next ten minutes or so, neither having put as much on the table as Alec had. It's turned out exactly how we planned it so far, it's finally down to Mac and I.

"See you?" he says in his unnervingly calm voice.

I'm suddenly nervous, or so my dry mouth seems to be telling my brain. I take a deep breath and lay my cards on the table, immediately searching his blank face for any sign of triumph or disappointment.

"A straight flush." He murmurs. "It seems I've been bested." He lays down four of a kind, an expression of mild surprise on his stoic face.

Darius and Bristel burst into raucous rounds of applause, whooping and laughing as a dazzling grin graces Madge's face. Alec storms out and Mac simply folds his hands in his lap, watching the scene unfold. I gather my winnings, fighting back a manic laugh when I realise that with the small pile of gold and the pelts combined, my whole family could have new shoes.

...

Darius and Bristel begin to drag me out of the tent to sell the pelts and buy them a 'well earned' drink. As I'm yanked forward I turn back to see Madge wringing her hands, ready to re-enter the tent where we left Mac to collect his cards after he declined our invite to the bar. I catch her eye and give her what I hope comes across as a reassuring smile. As much as I hate to admit it, the stuck up Mayor's daughter I'm learning not to hate is the only person I know who has a hope in hell of winning him over. I successfully sell the furs to a town lady looking to make a rug. I might despise people who would use perfectly good pelts for something so frivolous, but I sure don't mind taking their money. When we eventually make it to the bar, I buy the three of us a drink, deciding to wait to ask Madge what she wants in case she doesn't drink.

Soon my mind drifts to Madge and whether or not we should have left her alone in there. None of us really know him, what if he gets angry and carts her straight to the Peacekeepers? I set down my drink intending to check on her, when the mandatory plasma screen pings to life, the Capitol seal gracing the screen as the tinny Hunger Games theme tune blares from the speakers.

My heart instantly drops to my stomach. With everything that went on this morning, I didn't have time to prepare myself for the next instalment of my own personalised form of torture. It's the tribute interviews, and for some reason they have District 12 go first. Since the Capitol favours 'ladies first', that means I have mere seconds to brace myself before Catnip's nearly unrecognisable face is emblazoned across the screen. I listen in silence as she tells the whole world that she loves her dress, and that she promised her baby sister she'd do her best to come home. I've never been a religious man, but all I can think to do is pray that she intends to keep that promise.

"She's so beautiful." Darius murmurs.

She is beautiful, but not today. Not on that screen, with that stupid dress on and make-up as thick as a mask. She's beautiful when she's hunting in the woods in her father's hunting jacket and mangled boots. She's beautiful when she's _here,_ with me. I sit through Mellark's interview numbly trying to erase the image of my best friend's painted face from the back of my eyelids, only woken from my stupor when Darius nudges me. He and Bristel are gaping at the screen, and I come to my senses just in time to hear Mellark confess his undying secret love for my hunting partner!

"She came here with me." He says calmly. The camera cuts to Catnip's face, which I'm thankful to see is completely shocked. She hides it quickly, but those few seconds were enough to let me know that she wasn't seeing the kid behind my back or anything. Who the hell does he think he is?

Darius and Bristel exchange a look, but leave me to fume in peace, wondering what angle this townie could possibly be working.

We've almost finished our first round of cheap beer before hurricane Madge hurtles into the room, stopping in front of us pink-faced, panting and swaying giddily. Before we can get a word in edgewise she grabs Darius' fresh pint and chugs two-thirds of it in ten seconds flat, setting it back on the counter with a smack as we stare at her, open mouthed.

"What?" she shrugs innocently. "You think a first class girl can't drink?"

Bristel bursts out laughing as Darius and I continue to stare.

"Well?" Darius prompts. She opens her mouth to tell us, but her eyes linger warily on Bristel's grinning face.

"It's ok princess, he knows everything." I assure her.

"WHAT!" they yell, turning on me for an explanation.

"Calm down, would you? He's one of my best mates, we can trust him." I grumble, still smarting from that pansy Mellark's "confession" and annoyed at their incredulous expressions.

"Everything?" she whispers.

"Everything." Bristel confirms cheerily, throwing an arm around her shoulder. "Including the fact that you aren't partying in the sack with Ginger here after all. You should be an actress Madge." He winks.

She blushes deeply as my horrified eyes jump sharply from one to the other, wondering how I possibly could have missed any mention of my accomplices doing..._that_. Hell.I'm about as far from prudish as you can get (oh, if slag heaps could talk...) but Madge is just so pure, so forbidden. Imagining her with her town curves and mussed golden tresses in the throes of a passionate embrace leaves me feeling red around the ears.

"What about you?" she shoots indignantly. "You could have given us a signal!" She folds her arms huffily and sends him her trademark death glare, which only serves to bring on another round of chuckles as he ruffles her hair.

"And blow your cover? I'm sure you would have appreciated that. Plus, I was enjoying observing you from afar," he shoots me an evil grin I've learnt to fear. "I've heard so much about you from these two lunks that I wanted to see who was right about you".

Her eyes narrow and I can all but hear the cogs of her quick brain ticking furiously, so I hastily change the subject, much to Darius' apparent relief.

"So what happened with Mac?"

She smiles a dazzling smile. "He said yes! He agreed to meet us on the weekend, he wants to help!" she breathes, looking a little shell shocked. With a loud whoop, Darius lifts her off the ground and swings her round in his arms as she laughs heartily. My annoyed expression doesn't escape Bristel's notice and I catch him smirking at me from behind the beer I bought him. Arse. After minutes of pleading on her part, Darius sets her down gently.

"So, what did you guys talk about? What did he say?" he presses, eagerly.

She turns pink all of a sudden, and hovers nervously as we pull on our coats and get ready to leave.

"Does it matter?" she mumbles to the ground before leading the way out of the bar and into the bright sunlight and crisp air.

"I guess not," mutters Darius as we exchange puzzled looks and follow her outside.

_**A/N: I realised how silly the name 'Austin' is for a character that comes from District 3 so I went back and changed it. The Austin I had in mind will make an appearance later on because I enjoyed writing him too much to cut him completely! **_

_**Sorry for the monstrously long chapter, thanks so much for reading all the way down here! The next one will be a bit of a filler, explaining what happened when Madge spoke to Mac and the trio's new plans for the rebellion. I've also decided it's about time Gale figured out a few of Madge's secrets...you'll see which one in the next couple of days ;)**_

_**P.S: In case it wasn't painfully obvious, I know absolutely NOTHING about poker, so feel free to point and laugh if I made any mistakes with the gambling scene :) Also, I nicked the "You think a first class girl can't drink?" line from Titanic! Haha. I was watching it the other day and couldn't resist.**_


	12. Thinking, That's All

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has been reviewing, you guys are beyond awesome! Hope you enjoy this :) Also at this stage I feel like pointing out P.O.V's is pretty redundant, so I've stopped. Let me know if the new format is at all confusing and I'll switch back!**_

_**.**_

Chapter 12: Thinking, That's All

_**.**_

_I beam at Gale's back as Darius and Bristel congratulate him enthusiastically, revelling in the way he sneaks the occasional glance at the small bag of gold he won with an endearing expression of equal parts surprise and relief. His brilliance doesn't surprise me at all, but I'm glad I don't have to think of some way to persuade him to let me replace the loss of the pelts if he hadn't won. I can only imagine how much he would hate me after _that_ particular conversation. _

_I can tell he's excited, but he smiles so cautiously. As though someone is going to appear at any moment to snatch away its cause by taking even more from his already fractured family. With a long sigh, I vow to make Gale Hawthorne smile for real someday. Even if the only way for the Mayor's stuck-up daughter to do that would be to bring home the girl he loves and disappear from his life for good. The thought bothers me more than it should, but I do my best to shrug it off and concentrate on the task in hand. _

_Mac is still in the tent, so I should hurry before I miss my chance to speak to him alone. I should, but I don't. I've been running around all week burning paintings and making plans but when it comes down to actually taking a risk, I'm afraid. I'm not in the Capitol anymore, learning snippets about a powerful resistance network. I'm here in 12, part of a ragtag trio of teenagers sick of their families starving and sending their friends to die. All of our plans suddenly seem juvenile, I mean, what do we really know about Mac anyway? He could - and probably should - cart me straight to the Capitol. I shiver a little, worrying the hem of my skirt and trying to gather up courage I'm not sure I possess when I feel Gale's eyes on me. I raise my head, trying to mentally prepare myself for his steely glare but as soon my eyes find his, I'm disarmed. They're soft, like they were when he opened his eyes after my unsolicited hand-through-the-hair incident. I feel my face flare at the thought...what was I thinking? _

_He gives me a lopsided grin that makes my stomach flip, his impossibly white teeth contrasting with his olive toned skin and the dark stubble peppering his jaw. Immediately my back straightens and I raise myself to my full (if rather unimpressive) height. That smile tells me something I'd never have guessed I wanted from my surly ally...that in his own way, he believes in me. Even from someone I know hates my guts, that smile is the push I need to raise the canvas of the dingy tent and step inside._

_Mac is sitting in the exact same position we left him in, calmly surveying the spent table with his hands folded in his lap. He doesn't seem to hear me come in, so I cough slightly and choke out his name in a horribly high squeak that immediately makes my face colour._

"_Mac?"_

"_Hello, Miss Undersee." His quick eyes dart to fix on mine, startling me slightly._

"_Madge, please. Umm...sorry about your loss," I blurt out, cringing at my horrendous opener. Way to make friends Madge. He chuckles softly at my expression, and the sound is warm._

"_It's no matter. Gale Hawthorne is a good man, he deserved the pot."_

"_He is." I swallow thickly._

"_Why are you here, Madge?" he's certainly direct. I like that._

"_The thing is, we haven't been entirely honest with you...Darius, Gale and I." His mouth splits into a grin that tells me he was well aware of that fact. "But you knew that, didn't you?" He merely continues to grin, raising a finger to push his thin-framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose._

"_You weren't really convincing as Darius' girl, but you get bonus points for being ballsy about it." I pout while he laughs, "You have an honest face, Madge Undersee. That's not a bad thing."_

"_It is when you're trying to start a rebellion." I chance, hoping he appreciates honesty as brutal as the dose I'm serving him. _

"_I wondered when you'd get to that." He replies simply, suddenly sober. I take a shaky breath and continue._

"_How did you know?"_

"_Darius has been prepping me for weeks." He smirks. "Ever since I let slip that my move here wasn't entirely optional."_

"_You don't seem like the kind of person to just 'let something slip'" I appraise him warily, folding my arms. He smirks a little, raising an eyebrow._

"_I suppose I was hoping he took after his father. I heard a lot about General Buckley's work when I was employed by tech in D3, too much one might say. I'm almost certain that's why I was deported to 12, I witnessed more than the average squint should. I decided to send out feelers when he came to me for help with finding and editing the college transcripts of a certain Mayor's daughter at Capitol University."_

_My heart contracts at the thought of Darius risking his life to bring me home. Too often I let his jokes and easy smiles make me forget how seriously he takes his responsibilities, even his promises to frightened homesick girls he's never met._

"_He cares for you, I think." He states, matter of fact._

"_Of course he does, we're friends. Best friends." I reply cooly, arching my own brow._

"_On your part, believe me I noticed." He grins as I roll my eyes. "So what exactly did you come here to propose, Madge?" he asks._

"_Join us." I state, equally bluntly. "Darius, Gale and I want to kick start a rebellion right here in 12 where the Capitol will least expect it, but they have a huge advantage over us when it comes to technology. We need someone like you so that we know what they know, at least about us and our movements. What do you know about bugs?"_

"_I designed them back home."_

"_Could you make them?" I asked, excited beyond belief._

"_If I had the right materials, sure. And remove them."  
>I beam at him, eliciting a genuine smile from the strange man. "So, will you help us?"<em>

"_As much as I detest lying, I can see why you had to. Revealing the true extent of your alliance would have been foolish in front of Alec, but if I agree to risk my neck for you guys I expect to be kept in the loop at all times. _Without_ having to rely on my superior skills of analytical observation, that is." He adds cheekily._

"_Of course, you have my word." I'm fighting a desperate urge to jump around and hug him, but he seems like a guy who likes his space so I dance internally._

"_Meet me Saturday. I'll tell you what I need and where to find it. I could also do some debugging if necessary. My workshop is in the Victor's Village, No.14." _

"_That would be fantastic, thank you!" I lean over the table to shake his hand, catching sight of his intact hand of cards. I blanch, staring at them silently._

"_That's a Royal Flush! Y-you won! Why did you say you didn't?" he shrugs, the picture of cavalier._

"_It wasn't a fair game. Gale is usually an excellent player but he was...somewhat distracted." the way he looks at me pointedly makes my face burn, and I curse my damn hormones for deriving some enjoyment from his implication. _

"_Right," I say shortly as he chuckles lightly. "I should be getting back to my friends. Thank you again, you don't know what this means to us, truly." _

_He nods, his brown eyes warm. "You're welcome. I'll see you and your 'friends' on Saturday." he grins. I return his smile awkwardly, still tomato red. As I leave the tent I turn back, unable to help feeling as though I'm missing some important detail._

"_One more thing...why are you doing this? Joining us, I mean. Our friend had to volunteer for her 12 year old sister at the Reaping this year, so I guess you could say she's our real reason...our driving force. What's yours Mac?"_

_He's staring softly at the table again, tossing the dice in the air and catching it. "That, Madge Undersee, is a very long story. Let's just say...I'm angry too." He meets my eyes, something in his telling me he's holding back. I don't know what to say so I nod and step out into the crisp air, pausing only for a second before grinning and running at breakneck speed towards the bar and the two men I know will be waiting there._

_**.**_

_**...**_

_**.**_

When we reach the meadow that serves as an unofficial border, Bristel heads back to the Seam with a cheery wave and numerous whispered promises to keep his trap shut. After some initial argument from Madge, Darius and I walk her home through town.

"We caught the interviews earlier." Apparently Darius is allergic to silence.

"Oh," she replies simply, before he launches into a blow-by-blow account of footage I'd prefer never to hear about again. When he finishes she remains quiet for a few minutes, much like Katniss would before giving an opinion. It's moments like these when their friendship makes sense, despite her composure being a little strange to see since I seem to bring out her fiery temper.

"I'm surprised he would admit to that on National television." She says evenly.

"But you aren't surprised he likes her?" Darius asks the question swimming in my own mind.

"No!" she snorts incredulously.

"What's that supposed to mean!" I snap.

"It means...he watches her." She murmurs. My eyes flit to hers, finding her steady blue eyes calm and wide. She's telling the truth.

"You make him sound like a stalker, Undersee." Darius laughs as I grit my teeth. How had I not noticed this kid watching my best friend? My heart stops when I realise that I was always too busy watching someone else, someone I never could keep my eyes off of.

"Not like that, idiot." She scolds. "He couldn't help it. He's an idiotic teenage boy who didn't know what to do about his feelings for her. I'm sure he tried to talk to her, but what do you expect? Katniss isn't exactly approachable." she smiles fondly. Her statement makes me uncomfortably warm and I tug at the collar of my shirt in an attempt to attract some air.

"Yeah well, not all of us show our feelings by ogling someone, Undersee. It tends to help when you actually open your mouth and talk to the girl you like."

"Oh and you're such an expert are you Romeo?" My temper flares at his pathetic attempt at flirting but she's oblivious as usual so I let it go, even managing a snort at the sight of her confused expression.

"All I'm saying is that he could have at least laid some groundwork..." he trails off, gruffly.

"He was shy." She mutters to the ground, absently fidgeting with the hem of her dress. This whole conversation is getting too much for me. Can't they see I don't want to talk about this anymore? Hell, seeing it was bad enough.

"He didn't even know her!" I growl, startling Madge enough for Darius to shoot me a glare. "Well...it's true! Katniss would never fall for all that bullshit he was spouting. How can he possibly have feelings for her when they've never said two words to one other? _He's using her_. They're from two different worlds, he must know that!"

"Gale..." Darius tries to interrupt me but he should know better, I'm on a roll.

"Wait...I get it, she's not good enough for him before the Reaping but fair game when the cameras are on?" I snarl, letting a bark of humourless laughter ring through the quiet street. "Typical townie."

"That's ENOUGH Gale!" Darius shouts, his face an impressive shade of red.

To be honest I'm completely taken aback, I've never even seen Darius so much as snap at someone never mind _yell_. I blink stupidly at his hostile stance while wondering what part of my usual speech ticked him off this time, when I note the warmth-snatching absence of a certain blonde. She's standing frozen a few paces behind us, arms wrapped around her waist as though she were holding herself together because no one else would. My stomach drops uncomfortably as I realise hadn't even noticed she'd stopped.

In that moment, with her azure eyes shining and her golden hair wild around her shoulders, she looks every bit as beautiful and lost as she did all those years ago when I made a similar speech in front of my disappointed Father. For a little while, she recedes in my imagination to that tiny elf of a girl reaching desperately for the key that would let her into the locked door of her own house, and like last time, I'm immediately ashamed of myself.

"Princess, I didn't mean to-" I begin awkwardly, reaching a hand out to stop her from breaking.

"Shut up Gale." She whispers, her steady eyes now ablaze with blue fire that makes me feel warm all over, as though I'm standing near to an open flame.

"But-"

"I said...SHUT, UP!" I raise both hands as a gesture of peace but she doesn't take it well. "It's always the same with you, isn't it? One step forward, three steps back." she mutters bitterly. I want desperately to ask her what the hell she's talking about, to tell her she's not just a townie to me anymore and that I obviously didn't mean _her_, but she's having none of it. Every time I open my mouth she raises a tired hand to ward off my explanations. Darius moves to touch her arm but she jerks herself away from him, missing the hurt look that flashes across his usually cheerful face. She walks forward and plants herself a foot in front of me. I would be lying at this point if I said her proximity didn't affect me - I can smell her light flowery scent, so incongruent with her incensed expression.

"You can badmouth me all you like, but how _dare_ you talk about Peeta like that? If you would take your head out of your backside for _two seconds_ Gale Hawthorne you would realise that he's trying to help her, not sabotage her!" she spits. "He's going to die Gale, and instead of coming up with some tactic to stop that from happening, he's doing everything he can to save her."

"She's right." Darius interjects. "He's made her desirable. Everyone will want to watch her to see why a fellow tribute would dare confess something like that on live television when they're about to start killing each other. Attention means sponsors, Gale." He finishes, seemingly back to the Darius I know.

I take a second to process what they're telling me, grudgingly admitting to myself that I hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe the idiot actually was trying to help? It doesn't mean I like it, but if it helps bring Katniss home, I'll tolerate it. Not that I have much of a choice in the matter anyway...

I open my mouth to tell them as much, but Madge is still on a roll.

"So Hawthorne, if you're done indirectly insulting me for tonight, I made chicken pie this morning." She huffs as I stare back at her dumbly, wondering if I've actually driven her to madness.

"You have to hunt tonight, and I know Darius has patrols. Neither of you have time to go home so you're going to come in and eat before you have to leave. No arguments." With that she flounces off in the direction of her house, only pausing to turn around and find we're still standing where she left us, gaping as usual. "NOW!"

We hurry after her, Darius throwing me a grin that tells me I'm forgiven.

"Women." he snorts.

...

So that's how I find myself seated uncomfortably at the Undersees' breakfast bar, talking strategy with my peacekeeper friend and the Mayor's daughter. Hell, if Catnip could see me now...

Madge interrupts by placing a glass of water in front of me with a bang, still scowling furiously. She looks adorable, but I don't think she'd appreciate hearing that observation right now so I settle for grabbing her wrist. She whips round to face me, her hair seeming to crackle with electricity as she fixes me with her best glare.

I shiver as the tips of her fingers graze the inside of my wrist, remembering how good it felt to have them slip through my hair. I'd been beyond shocked to hear my own voice groaning with pleasure at her gentle touch, horrified by the way my chest tightened at the sight of her delicately flushed face. Swallowing thickly, I do my best to remember why I can't afford to wish for impossible things. Things like pressing my lips to hers in the middle of the Hob in case we're turned in and I never get the chance to know what it would feel like. She cocks her head to the side questioningly as I shake my head to rid it of stupid, stupid ideas.

"Thank you." I say simply, nodding to the glass. She seems to read between the lines, because her face softens and turns slightly pink as she pulls her hand from my grip. "You're welcome." She mutters.

"So, we have two days until we meet Mac, where did you say that was Undersee?" Darius asks her.

"His workshop. It's in the Victor's Village, number 14."

"Right, two days 'til we meet with Mac. At least that gives us something positive to keep in mind at the mandatory viewing tomorrow." Tomorrow, the Games begin. Tomorrow, Katniss could die. The thought of my best friend being caught up in the yearly bloodbath at the Cornucopia jars with reality like a bad dream I can't wake up from. The thought sobers us all, so we sit in contemplative silence for a few minutes until interrupted by a shrill ring that tells Madge that the food is ready. She jumps up to take the pie out of the oven, and as she plates up large portions I find the guts to tell my allies about the crazy idea that's been bouncing round my head for weeks.

"I've been thinking," I begin, clearing my throat. "I've been offered an Advanced Placement Mining Internship...I want to take it." Two things happen simultaneously; Darius jumps up to shake my hand and princess drops the empty plate she was holding, her eyes impossibly wide and searching as it smashes on the ground. Darius chuckles and bends down to help her clean it up, ruffling her hair and teasing her for being clumsy as we have a silent conversation with our eyes.

"Wow! Congratulations mate, doesn't that pretty much lead to an overseer's job after a year or so? You'll soon be giving old Alec a run for his money." he eventually makes it over to shake my hand, and Madge busies herself with the food again. I stare at her back as I continue.

"Yeah, it's one day a week instead of school. I figure it's the perfect opportunity to gauge people's feelings towards the Capitol, and hopefully recruit some new support for a mass movement. Realistically, we're going to need hundreds of people willing to help if we're hoping to pull off anything big."

A crash from the stove draws our attention to where Madge is violently spooning potatoes onto the plates. "Won't that be dangerous?" her voice is unusually high pitched, which from having a sister and a Mom I know is a sign of imminent danger. What is it with this chick? I thought we had an understanding about earlier, but now she's slamming around the kitchen like I kicked her dog.

"I wouldn't take any unnecessary risks, Princess." I huff. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

"In a word, yes." She replies waspishly.

I open my mouth to ask her where she gets off, when she turns around carrying two steaming plates of delicious looking food. She sets them in front of us and moves back to the stove, grabbing another much smaller plate of food and exiting the room.

"Come on Princess. I'll be fine, get over it." I call brusquely, displeased at the prospect of cutting short our time together even if she is in a foul mood.

"Deflate the head, Hawthorne. I'm taking some dinner to my mother." She calls from the other room, earning a snicker from Darius and a scowl from me. How was I supposed to know she has to feed her mother, isn't it supposed to be the other way round? I turn my attention to the food, more than I've had at any one time in years. The thought makes me angry, and more than a little guilty at the thought of my family eating small bowls of thin stew containing whatever Ma can afford at the market and whatever meat I've caught the previous morning. Then I remember my winnings and vow to buy some fresh bread from the baker's tomorrow. Plus, they'll all have more if I eat here. It's that thought that makes me finally dig in to the veritable feast in front of me. The pie is burnt in places and very heavily seasoned, but it tastes of something that makes me nostalgic. It tastes of comfort, warmth, and some other good mojo I can't quite place. Darius must be pickier than I am because he spits out a particularly burnt piece, making a face.

"That girl can make a grown man weak in the knees with a single look...but she cannot cook for sh-"

He cuts off abruptly as Madge walks back into the room, her eyebrows drawn together in a distracted frown. She brightens when she notices us watching, giving a watery smile as she grabs her plate and joins us at the table. Her backside barely grazes her seat when she abruptly jumps up, exiting the room after nearly upsetting Darius' precariously placed glass of water.

"Jeez Undersee, who put ants in your pants? Sit still woman!" She returns minutes later, smacks him upside the head for his cheek and dumps a pile of papers and a small metal object on the table, beaming inexplicably.

"What are those?"

"I borrowed them from my Dad's office. The papers are copies of his mayoral letterheads, and this is his seal." She holds up the small metal object, showing us an embellished 'M.U' stamp on the bottom. "I swiped his stamp years ago, but these are the real deal. I'm going to write to some of my Dad's wealthier contacts in the District and the Capitol asking them to sponsor Katniss."

"Isn't that your Dad's job?" I wonder out loud.

"I asked him to, but he said it would draw even more attention to our family and put us in danger." She makes a face.

"Understandable." Darius comments through a mouth of vegetables.

"He's a coward." She states simply, her face cold and unreadable.

"That's a great idea!" I give her a rare smile, unable to contain my excitement at helping Katniss in such a tangible way. She returns it but lets her face drop after a few seconds, brow furrowed in thought.

"The only thing is, when they send their replies we can't have them sent to my dad's office - he's back tomorrow for the first viewing and would know immediately what I'd done. I've been trying to think of a return address I could use but I can't think of anywhere that wouldn't look suspicious to the post office officials."

"Send them to me." I say instantly, problem solved.

"No, Gale." Or not. "What happens if the Capitol intercepts them? The trail would be led straight to you and your family." Damn, she's good. She knows I can't argue now, not if it would be putting Ma and the kids in harm's way.

"I have an idea," Darius interjects. "Send them to me at the Peacekeeper base. We get mail from District officials and private mail from the Capitol all the time, usually requests to provide security for events...so the correspondence wouldn't look out of place. Plus, if someone opens them and finds they're addressed to your Father I can just say that I'm carrying out a private courier service, that isn't unusual for us PK's either." He finishes, shovelling another mouthful of pie into his mouth.  
>"That's brilliant Darius!" Madge exclaims, beaming. "I'll get started tonight. I have a list of around 50 officials and 10 Capitol contacts to get through before the Games begin in earnest." Her face is flushed with excitement, and the fire - though controlled - still blazes brightly in her eagerness and verve. As I catch myself staring once again, Darius chokes a little and spits out a particularly burnt piece of crust, spluttering and chugging his glass of water like a wimp. He grins sheepishly at Madge as she moves to slap his back, a concerned look on her face.<p>

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I never did learn to cook properly at school..." she turns bright red. All three District 12 schools have mandatory cooking lessons for girls aged thirteen and over, sexism is alive and well this side of Panem. I grin as I remember the ribbing I gave Katniss for having to don an apron and learn to be a good little wife twice a week. The laughter dies in my throat as I realise that most people assumed she would be mine.

Much to my chagrin, Madge has switched to gently rubbing Darius' back, murmuring embarrassed apologies. If only she could see just how much he was enjoying her innocent little back rub I'm sure she would be less sympathetic. "Urgh, this is ridiculous! Whenever I make a pie or a cake I always get impatient and turn the heat too high. Then I forget to turn it, so everything I make is burnt to a crisp on one side. You'd think I would learn by seventeen how to cook a simple dish without giving my guests charcoal poisoning." She shakes her head, still slightly red. "Was yours ok Gale?"

I hear her question, but I'm miles away. My mind whirls ferociously as I begin to piece together why Madge's questionable cooking tasted so familiar...

A memory assaults my vision, of Vick and Rory fighting over the least burn piece of food from the daily hampers left on our doorstep after my Father died. I remember the way Ma burst into tears the first day it happened, sobbing into my shoulder and muttering incoherently. Neither of us had been able to find the words to explain why, in the poorest District in Panem, someone would leave a grieving pregnant woman and her family food without claiming at least a thank you. For the first few days Ma had forbidden us to touch any of it - scared that a town official would come to demand payment, but when the kids' stomachs began to growl and I offered to go out to hunt, she relented. I still remember how it felt to know we were officially charity, and how it felt not to care when I saw my brothers passed out early for once from full-bellied exhaustion. Ma and I tried to catch our mysterious benefactor more than once, but he..._she_...was sneaky. Eventually, we decided to leave the mystery person a note. The baby was born, and I was desperate to be in the woods again after that one time with a silent Madge in the pouring rain. When no one came to claim our thanks or payment, we had pushed it to the backs of our minds like a fond memory of an old friend.

Once the thought crosses my mind, I can't stop the flood of realisation. That day in the woods where she'd held me, that's how she'd known where I lived. The food was far too fancy to be from anyone in the Seam: a fact I'd conveniently overlooked in my assessment that all townies were heartless cowards. I feel sick as I even recall the strong peppery taste of even the vegetables that Ma had scolded the boys for complaining about. Unable to look at her now that I know, I stand abruptly and stride purposely to the huge red door, throwing myself into the darkness where the world isn't spinning and things make sense. I hear her calling my name from miles away but I refuse to look back at the one person I hoped never to be indebted to.

.

...

.

Returning from the front door I gape at Darius open mouthed, hoping he has some insight into what I could have possibly said to make Gale angry this time. He simply shrugs his shoulders as I move closer to him in order to gaze out the window after my surly ally. I turn my face from his line of view hoping he doesn't notice my hurt expression, before feeling his warm hand wrap around mine, a gesture I would have welcomed unthinkingly before Mac's casual observation earlier today.

"It's alright Madge, he probably just felt guilty about eating here." He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. I slip my hand from his and walk to the pantry, returning minutes later with the coffee canister to find him washing our plates.

"Stop, you don't have to do that." He just laughs.

"Maybe I wanted to Undersee." He turns to give me his signature grin, and I shake the canister while I have his attention.

"Do you have time for coffee?" he turns from his task to look at the ugly grandfather clock perched like a ground-level gargoyle in the corner of the room.

"Yeah, if I'm quick." I grab a dishcloth and dry what he's washed as he fills the kettle and flips the switch to heat it. I smile as I lead our well-worn routine, marvelling at our familiarity after only a few days since we first met in person. I remember vaguely how I'd wondered if his laugh was how I'd imagined, and if our easy conversation would carry past our lengthy letters. I needn't have worried at all. Turns out we work well as a team, Darius and I, each seamlessly anticipating the thoughts and actions of the other. I spoon the correct amount of sugar and pour just enough cream into each of our mugs, and the warmth of the liquid seeping into my hands makes me flush as I remember the tiny trail of fire Gale's thumb etched onto the back of my palm earlier today in the Gambler's tent. I've given up wondering why every slight touch of his olive skin feels like a painless brand when we can barely hold a civil conversation - tonight being a classic example. I sigh as I realise that on some unknown level, Gale and I understand each other perfectly. Our problems have always stemmed from words.

"He didn't mean it, you know...earlier, when he was running his mouth. He's just always been that way, he isn't used to curbing his temper around people he might hurt." His words are kind, but he's frowning into his cup.

"I don't want to talk about Gale anymore." I lie because I know him, and I know that's what he wants to hear. Sure enough, the corners of his mouth tug upwards and his eyes meet mine full of their usual mirth. "So what _do _you want to talk about?" he waggles his eyebrows suggestively and I roll my eyes.

"I still have your letters you know." I smile.

"And I yours."

"It took me so long to figure out whether or not you were for real. I couldn't believe you actually wanted to help me get out of there. You really were my last hope." I say honestly, just needing him to know. His eyes soften, meeting mine with something unreadable in their depths.

"What they did was wrong...people like you are stifled in the Capitol, Undersee. I didn't want to see them take the fight in you. I still remember that first letter, all the fancy words and logical reasons so carefully masking someone who was scared and trapped. I admired you, you and your strength." He smiles a little vacantly, as though lost in a memory.

"I'm lucky you saw through it." I swallow thickly, remembering how truly terrified I'd been at the thought of never seeing my home again. He takes my hand in his once more, and I'm relieved to feel no exquisite tension or breathtaking warmth, only friendly comfort.

"See, that's the thing Undersee. I'm the lucky one." Our eyes meet as I try to analyse that strange look he gets sometimes, so detached from my perpetual joker of a friend. The way his eyes soften makes me a little uncomfortable, so I drop his gaze and pull back my hand.

So...erm...how's work?" I'm reaching, but he takes the bait, smirking only slightly.

"Good, I guess. I've put in for a transfer to surveillance, the security system is too tight to truly infiltrate but at least we'd know what they know. Maybe I could figure out a way to stick a wrench in the works if I put in enough hours." He stretches tiredly, covering a loud yawn with an even larger hand.

"Just be careful in there, ok?" My eyes rake over his face, searching for non-existent signs of caution or fear. "Please?" He looks up in surprise, catching my worries tone.

"No worries, Undersee. Did no one ever tell you that Superman is invincible?" He stands and opens his arms, pointing to the clock. I walk into them, grateful to feel the life coursing through one best friend as another begins the countdown to her death.

"Except for kryptonite," I tease, releasing him to find his jacket. As he ambles out of the door into the biting night air, I allow myself a regretful glance towards the woods, hoping Gale isn't taking any stupid risks. I shiver as I remember the look in his eye when he grabbed my wrist. It had seemed to say so many things, things I could have worked out had his long fingers not been wrapped around my wrist creating the most delicious bursts of inexplicable heat. I'm only pulled out of my head when something touches my hair gently, so gently that I almost don't feel it. I startle instantly when I realise it's Darius' hand.

"Don't I know it." He murmurs, my body stiffening in shock as he steps impossibly lose to me, hand still on my hair only to turn on his heel and stride off into the night with a mock salute.

"Night Undersee." He calls, back turned.

"Night Buckley."

.

...

.

_**A/N: Apologies for the looooong filler chapter, hope you enjoyed it anyway. Please review! As always I'd love to hear your thoughts on how this is going :) Criticism and ideas are gladly received. Thanks so much for reading.**_

_**P.S: I'm thinking of changing what band's song titles I use when we get to Catching Fire, maybe even making it a new story. Any ideas which band I should use?**_


	13. Let It Happen

_**A/N: A huge thank you, as always, to those reviewing! This is just a wee one because I'm leaving for an excavation tomorrow for around 10 days and won't have a chance to write. Hope you enjoy this anyway, I promise the next chapter will be extra long to make up for it!**_

.

Chapter 13 : Let It Happen

.

For the first time in my life, the sprawling calm of the woods does nothing to ease my racing mind. All I can see in the darkness is Katniss' painted face contorted in agony, with one of the knives the angry girl from 2 was throwing embedded in her side. I hate the part of myself that thinks maybe she would be better off, the same part of me that lied to her before she left when I told her I believed she could win. Taking out my frustration on the one place I can come to heal, I shoot arrow after arrow into the dark trees, yelling to the night sky that it _wasn't supposed to be this way_. Shaking my head furiously in a poor attempt to clear my blurring vision, I gather what's left of my strength and turn towards home, needing to be around people I love.

As I pick my way through the dark underbrush I try to draw comfort from our plans, unable to truly bring myself to believe that anything we do will make enough of a difference to bring her home. I think I knew the day of the Reaping that it was goodbye. How could it not be? She said it herself – twenty-four go in and only one comes out. I growl in frustration, dragging my hands through my hair and pacing forwards through the long grass as it's dampness from the earlier rainfall soaks the ankles of my pants. It felt like I was walking mindlessly for hours...days even, but it could only have taken my treacherous legs half an hour to lead me to the back of the Undersee's mansion. I stare at the small window by the oak tree with the dim light, wondering why the hell I'm here and not in the Seam where I belong. Then I remember what she did, and why I need to see her. The thought stills my movement for only a few seconds before I'm climbing the wayward branches that lead to a girl who is turning everything I thought I knew into questions.

.

...

.

I'm writing to the Head of Judicial Affairs when I feel rather than hear his silent entrance, shivering a little as his lean form twists to get through the small window, making the muscles in his broad back ripple and shift. He lands crouched and immediately draws himself upwards into a defeated stance, the curve of his hunched shoulders screaming pain. He stares wordlessly through the strands of jet black hair hanging low over his brow, and I know better than to ask for an explanation.

"I thought you'd come." I say simply. "I'm almost done with this letter, do you mind?" he shakes his head no, and drags his eyes from mine before moving to the bookcase like a moth drawn to a flame. I take my time composing the last paragraph in the hopes of persuading the heartless brat recently put in charge of any and all District 12 trials, detainments and prosecutions. Like most jobs in D12, it was inherited and undeserved. Eventually I set my pen down and take the opportunity to gather my wits, knowing he's here to use me as a punching bag and hating the part of me that just doesn't care. All I know, is that right now for some unfathomable reason he _needs_ me, and the thought rushes through my veins like molten lava, setting every nerve-end on fire. I sneak a glance upwards to find him leaning against the shelves, arms folded with his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal strong sun-darkened forearms.

"Are you still writing to the officials for Katniss? It's late." His eyebrow quirks in an unspoken challenge. I flush, knowing I should have started sooner. Even if my mom was having a lucid half hour it was selfish to think of myself first.

"I-I know, I'm sorry. I'm almost finished though, and the postman doesn't come until morning anyway..." I trail off, unsure of how to explain myself.

He frowns in annoyance. "I didn't mean it like that, I ju-you're almost finished?" he silver eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, town official number 46" I wave the paper triumphantly. "Lawrence Gruber." My nose wrinkles in disdain, eliciting a soft chuckle from Gale that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"She would have appreciated it, you know. What you're doing for her."  
>"What <em>we're <em>doing for her." I correct.

"She would do the same for me. You too." He shrugs, visibly shrinking inwards. He looks so broken. I curl my arms around myself because it physically hurts to see him in pain. _When did that start?_

"You should stop after that one." He says gruffly, eyes fixed somewhere to my left. "It's late, you look exhausted." I redden and try to pat down my unruly curls as he catches his mistake.

"I didn't mean...you look great, I mean...you always...Hell." He stammers uncharacteristically, clearly getting annoyed as he ferociously rubs the stubble along his jaw.

"It's okay, I am tired." I mutter, giving him my most reassuring smile. He opens his mouth as if to say something more but turns abruptly to the bookcase, grabbing a large volume and burying his nose in it.

"For people who love words so much, we never seem to get them right, do we?" I smile, hoping he won't take it the wrong way. His grey eyes dart to mine, gauging my meaning. The corners of his mouth turn upwards but he offers no sarcastic retort to break the spell, and I'm grateful. By the time I sign and seal my last letter of the night, he's so engrossed in the first few pages of "Great Expectations" that he doesn't notice me move to lean against the shelves beside him and watch his silver eyes dart from line to line.

Grinning, I carefully lean my arm around his back to tap the opposite shoulder to where I'm standing. He falls for it, his gaze darting to his right before finding my laughing face on his left, and there it is...he's smiling! Not a smirk or a half hearted tight-lipped grimace he tries to pass off as one, but an actual smile. The effect is dazzling, rakish even, as his eyes crinkle slightly and the corners of his mouth lift to reveal a perfect set of white teeth with an almost wolfish quality in their sharpness. His eyes have taken on that softness they sometimes do, and I'm glad he isn't speaking because I'm not sure I could. As usual, my speechlessness doesn't last long and I'm blurting out the first thing that springs to mind.

"You look so much like your Father when you smile." The smile drops and his lips purse to let out a long deflating breath.

"You remember him?" he tips his head in question distractedly as he calmly returns "Great Expectations" to the shelf.

"Of course...I'm sorry Gale, I shouldn't have..." I trail off, chewing my lip because I have no idea what to say. He shakes his head slowly, eyes sincere.

"Don't be sorry. Ma says that all the time, I never get tired of hearing it." He smiles slightly. "What else do you remember?  
>"Pardon?"<br>"About that day, the day we found you in the woods."

"I remember you being a total jerk, even at eight years old." I tease, laughing.

He groans, dragging a hand across his eyes and laughing along at the memory, the sound deep and warm. "I'd sort of hoped you'd forgotten."

"An elephant never forgets." I deadpan as he grins back at me. "What do you remember?"

"That you were even tinier then than you are now." He smirks, resting a hands atop my head to measure just how much shorter I am than his broad shoulders.

"Shut it, Hawthorne. I'll have you know that five foot four is exactly the height I should be in proportion to my age and gender. _ You're _the freak." He chuckles heartily as I fold my arms huffily across my chest and settle my back against the bookshelf, shifting in front of me until his large frame blocks my view of the room. He raises one long muscular arm to settle on the shelf above my head, leaning in until or foreheads are centimetres apart.

"You aren't at all what I expected, Princess." He murmurs as I fight desperately to catch my breath, his grey eyes impossibly soft as his words brush my cheeks.

"Good." I whisper, making him laugh. The sounds warms me from head to toe, and I find myself wishing I made my surly ally laugh more than I make him yell. It's confusing having him so close, close enough to feel his body heat in this chilly loft. I arm myself with a deep breath to fight the urge to lean into the warmth radiating from the broad expanse of his chest, slipping to the side a little only to find his other arm blocking my escape at waist level. I laugh gently, because it's unbelievably ironic that I've never felt more free than I do caged in Gale Hawthorne's arms, unable and unwilling to escape.

He mistakes the laugh for a sign of discomfort and coughs gruffly, retreating instantly and scraping his hand across the stubble on his jaw as I blush horribly. I almost want to ask him to come back to me, but seeing him look so vulnerable with pain still furrowing his brow reminds me to verbally ask for answers I begged for with my eyes earlier on.

"How can you take that job Gale? How can you go down there after what happened?" I ask, hating how small my voice sounds when I had intended it to be strong and demanding.

"What?" his hands drop to his sides in shock, his head tilting in question.

"To the _mines_. The last time we met in the woods..." I break off, unable to describe the feeling of being allowed to hold him as his silent tears mingled with the rain, his hand in mine. Even the thought is intoxicating. "Aren't you scared?" I manage.

"Of course I am!" he snaps. "But it's necessary. We need help, Madge. Plus, what happened with my Father...that was a long time ago." I suck in a breath at the sound of my name on his lips. For one mad moment, I want to ask him to say it again, but thankfully his slow steps towards the window frame where I'm now leaning distract me from such nonsense.

"I know." I say to my hands, head bowed. "I just can't imagine how hard it will be for you down there. Katniss told me she still has nightmares about that day...I know I do." I admit softly. He's looking at me strangely when his feet eventually halt a safe distance from my perch.

"Is that why you were so angry before?" he smirks.

"Yes." I snap indignantly, "what's your excuse?" he shifts uncomfortably.

"I shouldn't have left like that, I just remembered...I had to go do something."

"Yeah, right." I snort, rolling my eyes. He simply rubs his jaw some more, clearly frustrated.

.

...

.

I know she doesn't believe my lame excuse for a second and I don't blame her. I start to wonder when the hell I started feeling the need to explain myself to the Mayor's daughter, when I remember the source of her anger.

_She was worried about me_.

It would have been so easy to take her in my arms right then, to do everything in my power to make her forget our differences, to make her forget that she deserves so much more than me, but as I got closer and closer to her achingly beautiful face...I was the one who couldn't forget. Who _can't _forget. Then her laugh broke the silence punctuated by the pounding in my chest, jolting me back to the reality that still feels like a dream. Now she hops down from the windowsill, refusing to meet my eyes, and I take that as my cue to go. I leave slowly, reluctant to return to the darkness she pulled me from. I'm halfway out the window, one leg in and one leg out when I decide I need some of her warmth for the journey home. I let my fingers trail up her arm, wondering at her softness. Her head snaps up as her eyes search mine, impossibly wide and blue, as I move her hair behind her right shoulder allowing the back of my hand to brush the soft material of her sweater and tangle slightly in her unruly golden curls.

"We'll get them right someday, Princess." I watch her steady eyes blink at me one last time before leaning fully out of the window and into the crushing darkness of what tomorrow night will bring, swearing silently to pay back the debt I owe the strange girl I can't decide whether to love or hate. The only question is...how?

_**A/N: Let me know if you thought this chapter was too sappy, I'm not great at the pacing of romance and would love any suggestions to keep me on track! The next chapter will be the first mandatory viewing of the Games, the meeting with Mac and Gale's attempt at evening the score :)**_


	14. The World You Love

_**A/N: Hello lovelies, thank you for being so patient with me whilst I've been away digging. Hope you enjoy! :)**_

.

...

.

Chapter 14: The World You Love

.

...

.

I can't seem to be still this morning. It's as though my mistakes are in every line of view, in every muted sound glinting on every polished surface of my childhood home. I've never been particularly fond of its clinical perfection at the best of times, but being trapped inside our luxurious Capitol-inspired abode is stifling in a new way this morning. I just can't shake the guilty feeling in the pit of my churning stomach telling me I have no right to be here.

I should be spending precious time with District 12's mentor Haymitch Abernathy, devising strategies that would keep me alive for as long as possible in the 74th annual Hunger Games. Instead, the one person I could surely call 'friend' for the past five years is counting down the hours until the fight for her life begins. My double failure at keeping her safe stings as much as it did the day of the Reaping, the memory of Prim's terrified face and Gale's pained expression emblazoned on the back of my eyelids. I can't bear to trudge from room to room anymore, and Mum is sleeping so the piano is out. My only other option becomes more and more attractive considering the deceptively beautiful weather – I'll go for a walk.

Opting for a route I usually avoid, I head to the town square in the hopes of picking up some fresh bread for when Dad gets home tonight – his favourite. The square is as bustling and distracting as ever, and I find myself losing track of time and terror when I come across an outdoor stall boasting a large collection of dusty tomes begging to be opened and explored. Even I can't deny that the Square is beautiful on Market Day, with colourful signposts, marquees and wares reminiscent of a busy day at the Hob. Listening in to cheery conversations and people-watching as an impromptu dance erupts in the middle of the Square reminds me how much fun the townspeople can be given half a chance. I take a moment to remember Peeta Mellark, and the way he never cared who anyone was on the outside (Town snob, Seam rat or Mayor's brat) but was sure to give everyone the same chance at a friendly exchange. Staring thoughtfully at the pale cobbles beneath my feet, I can't help believing that if there was some way to merge the uptight but creative townspeople with the hard workers of the Seam who know how to laugh, this District would be a wonderful place to live.

After a long browse at Mya Appleby's book stall I hit the jackpot, a beautifully illustrated copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island". I remember Dad reading it to me before bedtime when I was a kid, before he got so busy and distant. Unable to resist the flood of nostalgia brought on by its colourful pages, I hand over the money before adding it to the large pile threatening to spill from the safety of my noodly arms. I make it a few paces before smacking into something large and solid, falling onto my backside with a loud "oomph" as my carefully balanced books crash onto my chest and the dusty street.

To my surprise and annoyance it's Darius' cheery face that hovers over me, chuckling heartily at my red-faced embarrassment. I huff when he offers me a hand up, only making him laugh harder as I ignore the gesture and ungracefully yank myself from the red dirt now covering my entire back side.

"Can't you watch where you're going you big ginger oaf?"

"Sorry Undersee, didn't see you behind the portable library you're trying to lug around town." He grins as I scowl mutely. "Let me take some of those for you."

I protest for a minute or so but eventually he just grabs two thirds of the pile and holds them above his head where I can't reach.

"Thank you." I mutter grudgingly, allowing him to lower them comfortably under one arm as though they weighed no more than a decorative couch cushion.

"No worries." He replies good naturedly, making me feel a little bad for scolding him.

"I'm sorry I was rude about your hair, you know I think it's lovely."

"Oh yes, Mum always said that people who teased me about it were just jealous." He winks, earning him a laugh and a good sharp shove for his cheek.

"What are you doing out here before noon anyway, are you patrolling?"

"Nah, off duty. All dressed up with nowhere to go..." He smirks, indicating to the forest green t-shirt he's wearing over dark jeans and chuckling at some unknown joke.

"Oh, of course. I'm not used to seeing you off the clock, makes for a nice change." I reply, feeling mildly stupid. I don't think I've ever seen Darius out of uniform, he looks good...more himself in this casual getup than the regulation white slacks he's usually found in.

"We always get a few hours off before mandatory viewings, it's a long shift..." Out the corner of my eye I see his gaze flicker to mine concernedly as I chew my bottom lip. Like I need a reminder of what I could be seeing on those screens when the sun goes down. "I was actually looking for you...I wanted to talk to you about tonight."

I do my best to pull myself together and meet his eyes, but they are trained on the floor and he's looking decidedly red around the ears. "About meeting Mac? I figured we could just find each other after the viewing and head straight over to the Victor's Village."

"No...I mean, yes we can do that, but I also wanted to talk to you about the viewing itself."

I sigh, _not that again. _"What about it?" I manage stiffly.

His eyes still firmly on the ground, he replies. "I know how hard it's going to be for you tonight. I don't agree with your dumb idea that it should have been you, but I read your thoughts in those letters every day for six months...I know how much it meant to you to be tribute this year. So I was thinking maybe...we could go together?"

"Together?" I'm still puzzled. Why is he being so awkward?

"Yeah, you and me Undersee." He glances up nervously, and the expression looks so odd on his cheeky face that I almost laugh. Luckily he continues before a giggle escapes my pursed lips. "I could pick you up from your house and walk you there, we could watch it together. If anyone questions us I'll say your Dad asked me to escort you in his absence."

"I'd like that." I beam at him. And I would. The thought of having my strong, humorous friend to lean on when things get bloody is already making me feel better about facing up to tonight.

"Really? Great. I'll come for you around quarter to seven, that should give us plenty of time to avoid being manhandled by my colleagues." His trademark grin spreads across his face, transforming him back into the Darius I know and love. I shake my head and laugh a little at his odd behaviour.

"Hang on." He stops in his tracks, turning and darting over to one of the stalls just as I myself am distracted by catching sight of the broad retreating back and wild brown hair belonging to the most confusing boy I know, the boy whose very touch is like fire. I wonder briefly where he's going before noting his obvious route towards the woods. I allow myself to long for the cool shadows and damp earthy smell of my favourite otherworld, wishing desperately to follow the one person who might understand how I feel. Then I remember I'm probably the last person he would want to see on a day like today, a thought that rekindles the sick feeling in my stomach. I feel a warm hand grasp mine, and turn to see Darius tying something to my wrist.

"What's that?" I ask, baffled by the band of pleated fabric in various shades of blue adorning my hand.

"It's a friendship bracelet," he explains with an exasperated smile. "Didn't you ever get one as a kid?"

"No." I mutter, embarrassed by the reminder of my lonely childhood. "What's it for?"

"It's not _for_ anything Undersee, it just means we're friends...best friends, and we don't care who knows it. I have one too, see." He holds up his wrist with a grin and sure enough, a matching band lies next to his Father's battered leather watch.

"We are? It does?" I choke out thickly, somewhat overwhelmed by words I've waited seventeen years to hear, brought to the surface by a childish tradition I hadn't even known I missed out on. His face grows suddenly serious,

"Of course we are, Undersee. You don't have to do this alone anymore, you hear?" He brings his hand up to cup my cheek then seems to think better of it, dropping his arm and gripping mine. I've always loved Katniss dearly, but her stoic manner never quite allowed me to believe that our friendship is as important to her as it is to me, so Darius' teasing but truthful words mean more to me than he knows.

"Thank you." I whisper. It isn't much to offer in return but he takes it warmly, touching his forehead briefly to mine before turning to finish the walk back to my house, calling obnoxiously over his shoulder to tell me to get a move on. Rolling my eyes, I follow my best friend home.

.

...

.

What do you give the girl who has everything?

As much as the question taunts me, its repetition sits better with my anxious brain than worries about tonight. I may only be repaying a debt, but the thought of doing something nice for the Mayor's daughter (perhaps even earning one of her smiles) leaves me feeling inexplicably at peace.

A Peacekeeper truck almost runs me down in the town square on my way to the Market, the huge screen it carries leaving a foul taste in my mouth. Before I can work up the spit to send the white vehicle's way, a glint of familiar gold catches my eye...it's her.

She's always alone now. I guess being the Mayor's daughter you'd think she would be the most popular girl in school, but the only person she could ever be found beside was Katniss. I suppose she must be lonely now, and though I know from experience that she's tougher than she looks the thought still makes my chest tight. She's wandering dazedly through the bustling crowds, pale creamy skin bright in the sweltering midmorning sun. I note appreciatively that she is dressed for the weather in a modest pale blue sundress that clings to her perfect figure in all the right places. Giving myself a well needed shake I watch in interest as she approaches my favourite stall, her face visibly brightening when she catches sight of the worn volumes. A soft laugh escapes my lips at the sight of her azure eyes widening as they rake through the treasure trove of words, her pink lips slightly parted in wonder. She's beautiful, and I wonder vaguely how I ever convinced myself otherwise.

Maybe once I've paid her back, things could be different between us...

The thought settles deep in my chest, so far-fetched and absurd. It's then that I realise what Madge Undersee might truly need in return for her kindness all those years ago...friendship. Company, interaction, to be around someone still alive and fighting. Maybe if I get the words right this time, she'll let me be that person for her.

It's the call of a Mockingjay that brings me back to the present, to Katniss. In the same breath I remember another promise I made, a promise to my best friend and hunting partner,

_"Don't let them starve Gale! Please, look after them!" _

With one last look at my beautiful ally, I head off towards the woods to check my snares. I leave the square without glancing back, focused completely on my role as provider for two families. I do a quick calculation in my head to figure out how many more pelts I need to get a couple sacks of potatoes for the week, turns out, the answer is none. I still have winnings leftover from the poker game with Mac, and I can use the rest to get some seeds for Ma's vegetable garden. We're becoming reliant on the small patch of ground for fresh food since the Capitol cut the District's quota in half to save the Capitol residents a few pence on their coal exports, another part of life in D12 that none of us have the power to change. The brick path that leads towards the Seam/Town border and the fence eventually tapers to red dirt and I know that I'm close to freedom. I can make out the fence as I follow the stream leading down to the safest crossing - the one surrounded by the most cover. Once inside the fence my feet instinctively follow the invisible paths I've made over the years, easily dodging fallen logs and hidden drops as I allow my mind to drift back to the easy days. The days when my best friend was safe and we had each other's backs, a time when there were no wide-eyed blondes coaxing my angry words into action. Perhaps it isn't my fight, it never truly felt like it was until they took Katniss, and with her my hope for the future.

It's getting harder and harder to imagine little Catnip making my heart beat painfully inside my chest, to imagine the slightest touch of her hand or the weight of her gaze making every inch of me erupt into delicious flames. It's hard to imagine because only one girl has ever made me feel that way, and she's the one girl I should know to stay the hell away from. Still, I can't help but wonder if I ever would have missed those feelings had I never known them to begin with. Maybe what I had with Katniss would always have been enough.

The very thought makes my blood boil and my hands shake. I hope she's not too frightened to focus, if I know my hunting partner she won't show anyone how terrified she really is until the very last moment. That bastard Abernathy better have sobered up and given her some help...drunken good-for-nothing. I snort, briefly wondering how badly she kicked that kid's ass after his declaration during the interviews. She was clearly surprised at the time but I'm sure she was livid when it eventually sunk it. I hope Madge was right when she said he cares for her, I'm not too proud to admit that Katniss could use any help she can get, even from that pansy dough-boy Mellark. This is life now, I guess. Hoping someone will loan her a few more minutes of life so I can see her face just one more time.

After a few more minutes of my silent walk I pass the bent elm that tells me I'm near my first snare, so dropping to my knees I strain my ears for movement lest I interrupt a catch in progress. Finally certain there isn't any prey in the vicinity I move forwards to check the clever length of wire, finding a light brown hare dangling from its clutches. Sighing, I bend to retrieve it. Posy hates when I bring home the animal pelts and cries until I tell her it won't happen again. She's still too little to understand that the death of these animals ensures our survival. I however, am not, so I treat everything I catch with respect in thanks for what its tiny heart unwittingly sacrificed for my family. I check and reset all ten of my traps with only one other hare to show for it, if I hadn't won the game the other day we would be struggling. It begins to rain lightly on my way back to the fence, and I stand still for a moment to let its freezing tendrils slide down my face and neck, anything to stall going home to get ready for the viewing. The corner of my eye catches something red on the forest floor and I can't help but crack a small smile.

.

...

.

When the sun peeks out from behind the grey clouds that brought the brief shower, I find myself striding up the grand cobbled path of the Mayor's Mansion to see a girl about some strawberries. The girl in question happens to be outside on her front porch, swaying dangerously on a precariously placed ladder and attempting to clamber onto the roof. Despite the modest cut of her dress, her current position shows a novel amount of creamy white leg, a sight that necessitates a few thick swallows to moisten my suddenly dry throat. I'm only human, after all.

"Oi Princess," I bark gruffly, annoyed that she's already making me lose concentration. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing up there?" To my immense alarm, she swivels at the sound of my voice, making the already rickety ladder creak and groan and sway. I dart over to steady it, heart pounding, but all she does is glare down at me hands on hips.

"What do you want Hawthorne, I'm kind of busy."

"With what, getting yourself killed? Get down from there!" I growl, infuriated by her lack of self-preservation.

"Since when have I taken orders from you, you...you..." she trails off, clearly floundering when it comes to thinking of a good insult. I grin up at her cheekily as her face flushes pink.

"Come on, Princess. Please? Don't make me come up there and get you." I say mock sternly before both our eyes widen at the less than innocent implication and we can suddenly no longer make eye contact.

"Alright, alright." She mutters from above, "But I'm only coming down because I'm thirsty, not because I take your obnoxious demands to heart." She huffs.

"Sure Princess." I placate, still too embarrassed to look her in the eye. Embarrassment gives way to concern as she stumbles clumsily on the last rung, propelling herself forwards down the front steps leading to the path. I dart sideways, my hands instinctively gripping her small waist to steady it as her hands grasp my shoulders. She lands safely a step above me, blushing furiously, nose crinkled in embarrassment.

"Thanks," she murmurs, deep blue eyes searching mine. I let out a slow breath that moves her hair, revelling silently in the feel of her soft hands on my shoulders, my own huge hands encircling her tiny waist. I can't resist carefully reaching up to tuck a rebellious curl behind her ear, marvelling at the way her eyelids briefly flutter closed when my fingers brush her cheek.

"No worries, Princess," I smirk, trying to regain control. "Wouldn't want Daddy to have to scrape your pretty face from these fancy cobbles, now would we?" She shoves my shoulders to free herself from my hands, folding her arms angrily. I sigh, knowing I could have handled that better.

"What do you _want_?" she repeats coldly, her foot tapping an annoyed rhythm onto the wooden slats of her front porch.

"I came to give you these." I mutter gruffly, holding up the pail of bright, ripe strawberries I gathered in the woods, taking care to check every one for holes or blemishes. It's not much, but I figured they were the perfect start to the repayment of my debt.

"Oh," her face softens when she sees the fruit, "Thanks Gale. Let me just go get my purse..." She smiles brightly before turning towards the house.

"No!" I growl, startling her. "I don't want your money."

"Why not? Fair's fair. I know you risk your life to get those, let me give you something in return. " She tilts her head in question, eyeing me warily.

"No, you don't understand..." I mutter, beginning to panic.

"Whatdon't I understand, Gale? We've always traded, what's different now?" She steps forward slightly, a kind expression on her face.

It's a valid question. What _is_ different now? She's still the Mayor's daughter and I'm still an illegal hunter from the Seam that hates everything about her perfect life. But knowing what she did for my family, what she's doing for Katniss...it changes things.

"Everything, Princess. _Everything_ is different now..." my hands rub my eyes and furiously rake through my hair as I will myself to find the right words to explain what's happening to us without giving away the fact that I know her secret. Before I get a chance to gather my thoughts her fingers slip into my large rough palms, drawing them away from my face. Her eyes are wide and concerned, drawing me in until she's so close that I can smell her scent, a divine mix of wildflowers and clean cotton that is so uniquely _Madge_.

"We're friends aren't we?" I demand rudely, yanking my hand back. She gapes like a fish. "Aren't we?"

"Y-yes, I suppose we are."  
>"Well, friends give each other things without asking for something in return. They're a present, take them." I hold them out for her, avoiding those eyes. She stares at me for a long moment as though I have two heads, eventually stepping forward to take the pail whilst standing on her tiptoes to brush her impossibly soft lips against my cheek.<p>

"Thank you, Gale." Her smile is so warm that I can't help but return it, waiting until her back is turned to touch the place her lips had been. In that moment with her mouth on my skin, it's achingly clear that I was horribly, horribly wrong. I will never be just friends with Madge Undersee. Even the thought of her lips touching someone else just as innocently makes my knuckles clench painfully. The stark discomfort of these unfamiliar feelings is enough to propel me forwards, down the path and past her gate before she returns red-faced from her mansion with two glasses of orange liquid. I watch hidden as she lays both glasses on the step and sits down, tucking her skirt under her bum and folding her delicate hands in her lap. Wincing, I realise that the girl with the strawberries has more faith in me than I deserve...she thinks I'm coming back.

.

...

.

I spend the next few hours cooling off with Thom and Bristel at the Rope & Bucket, the best (i.e the only) pub in District 12. As much as it's tempting to get wasted for the viewing I stick to water because beer and white liquor would waste money my family just doesn't have. I never did understand how some men could stand the shame of having their wives meet them at gates of the mines to fetch the wages before they drank them down the drain. Thom and Bristel are of the same mind, and the owner Lance Paxton never gives us any hassle because he knows we spend money here when we can afford it. We amble home hungry around six in the evening, knowing it's time to face what we've been avoiding all afternoon. Thankfully neither Thom nor Bristel attempt to impart any words of wisdom when we reach the end of my street. Knowing nothing they could say will bring her back they simply clap me firmly on the back and head home to change.

I lay everything on tiny back porch of my rickety home. My mud-caked boots, my sweat soaked shirt, my foul mood and my bottomless frustration. Dad always left his day at the back door, and my childhood was better free from adult worry and pain. Ma and I agree that Rory, Vick and Posy deserve the same. I wash bare-chested in the small washroom adjacent to the kitchen, grabbing a rag to dry my hair. The kitchen is unusually quiet, but I put the investigation on hold until I find the clean white shirt I left by the stove to dry just this morning.

"Ma?" I bellow, hoping she wasn't attempting to catch up on some sleep while Posy takes a nap.

"In here Gale, please don't shout like that, it's barbaric." My mother's weary voice echoes through the open doorway that leads to our cramped living room.

"Sorry Ma, have you seen my sh-"  
>I stop dead in my tracks at the strange sight that greets my tired eyes. Ma is sitting calmly on our dingy sofa, eyebrows raised, holding a steaming cup of tea between her dry cracked hands. Vick is being his unusual self, sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring thoughtfully at the figure whose lap holds my giggling baby sister. Madge Undersee is in my house. And she's wearing my shirt.<p>

Moving quicker than I have in years, I grab my dirty shirt from my belt loop and yank it back over my head.

"What are you doing here?" I gape still stunned, lifting Posy squealing from the ground in a practised motion when she launches herself at my knees. Madge looks a little red in the face but raises an eyebrow and opens her mouth to answer before she's cut off by my mother.

"Mind your manners Gale Jacob Hawthorne, I raised you better than that." She admonishes quietly but sternly. "Sorry Madge, I swear I taught him to behave." I scowl as Madge lets out a light laugh. My mother's eyes twinkle in a way that tells me she meant to embarrass me, and that I deserved it.

"No worries Mrs Hawthorne,"

"Please sweetheart for the last time, call me Hazelle." Ma reaches over to pat her knee as Madge gives her a watery smile. Have I missed something?

"Princess Madge came to visit us while you were out, Gale." Posy stage whispers in my ear. "I told her I know all about her adventures with the dragons, and that she's just as pretty as you said she was!" Posy smiles in innocent triumph as Vick sniggers and Madge turns bright red.

"You did, did you? Thanks a bunch half-pint." I mutter wryly, placing a kiss on her forehead before setting her down gently. Fantastic. Ma eventually takes pity on me and begins to shepherd the kids into the kitchen for dinner, leaving me alone with the pretty intruder. Posy is easily coaxed from her fairytale princess come-to-life with the promise of some leftover strawberries I dropped in before I left for the Pub, but it's my near-mute brother Vick who proves hard to budge.

"You'll still come show me that book of famous pictures you were telling me about, wont you?" he addresses Madge to my immense surprise.

"Of course, Vick. I promise." She smiles reassuringly. He casts a furtive glance in my direction then walks over to whisper something in her ear. Whatever my traitor brother asks her makes Madge laugh out loud.

"Yes Vick, even then." This seems to satisfy him and he lollops quietly out the room, still gangly from his most recent early-teen growth spurt. I want desperately to know how she coaxed my brother out of his often impenetrable shell, but the sight of her standing there in my shirt and what looks to be a pair of Rory's shorts is completely distracting. Avoiding meeting my eyes she walks slowly towards the mantelpiece, her gaze fixed on our one and only family portrait taken in better times. We circle each other for what seems like hours until her voice gently shatters the silence.

"Have you been telling tales about me, Hawthorne?" she asks the carpet, smiling softly, still a little pink in the face. Swallowing thickly I attempt to explain myself.

"Posy has nightmares about Dragons, she refuses to sleep until she hears a story. We don't exactly have any child-friendly books so I just...made them up." I finish lamely. Her lips curve upwards into a warm smile, stealing the breath I just sucked in at the sight of her fingers playing nervously with the hem of my shirt.

"You're a good brother, Gale." She says a little breathlessly. "But maybe this will help." She wanders past me to her bag, pulling out a large brown leather book with gold trim I'd recognise anywhere. Clutching it to her chest she turns to face me, her bottomless blue eyes lifting to meet mine. Slowly, cautiously as though I were a wild animal liable to strike, she holds out the book for me to take.

"The story about the Dragon is the best, you can borrow it. I've read it loads." She mimics her younger self perfectly, a shy grin carving dimples into her smooth cheeks.

"I shouldn't have left like that," I mutter. "I just-"

"You were right, you know." She cuts me off, digging the toe of her polished shoe gently into our threadbare carpet. "Everything is different now. _We're_ different. I felt it the day of the Reaping...I think you did too. We've got a fight on our hands Gale, and we can't begin that fight in earnest before sorting ourselves out first, you know?" She takes a deep breath and continues. "From now on, can't we just be Madge and Gale? The Capitol reduces us down to nothing more than where we live, pitting us against one other because they know that together we're strong. I'm more than just the Mayor's daughter Gale."

I open my mouth to tell her I know that, but she lifts a hand to silence me, eyes shining with a raging blue fire I long to keep burning. "-and you're more than an illegal hunter from the Seam." That shuts me up. I'm almost positive that no one has ever thought of me as more than my means of survival, not with my less-than-legal hobby being so ingrained in my identity.

"How?" I choke out, calling her bluff. She doesn't miss a beat,

"You're a caring brother and a loyal best friend, you love words and the woods and you spar better with me than anyone. You're a father figure, a survivor, and most of all you are a _royal_ pain in the ass." She grins at my shocked expression and utters one last sentence, meeting my eyes with her unwavering gaze. "I admire you Gale Hawthorne."

I want to tell her to keep going as I bathe in the way she sees me, the picture she weaves as heady and intoxicating as the fairytales she stars in. With this strange girl I _feel_ like more than where I come from, more than the place I was born and the house I grew up in, but to hear from those soft lips that she sees something in me is more than I can bear.

My hand moves of its own accord to gently grip her waist, smoothing the soft fabric of my shirt with my thumb and eliciting a gasp as I walk her backwards until she collides softly with the wall. I allow an arm to slide round the gentle curve of her waist to hold her impossibly close as my hand moves to cup her face, caressing the cheek where her dimples crinkle the skin. She says nothing, but drops the book on the couch and circles her arms around my neck, hands shaking like autumn leaves. Breathlessly, I trace the curve of her lips with my eyes.

I think I would have kissed her right then and there had my idiot brother not barged through the pantry door and loudly introduced himself. "Rory Hawthorne at your-...oh." He stops when he sees Madge jump away from me as though burnt, her face a beautiful shade of deep pink.

"What do you want Rory?" I snap, irked by his horrific timing and the fact that my heart is still pounding in my chest from nothing more than intimate proximity to a girl I ought to hate.

"I just came to meet Princess Madge in the flesh, I couldn't resist after hearing so much about her..." he smirks as I scowl furiously. "Plus Ma said to let you know your dress is dry." He addresses Madge and she fumbles her thanks, still shaking slightly.

"Right, I'll er...see you two lovebirds in a jiff." He gives a cheery wave.

"OUT!" I bellow, making Madge jump and my family roar with laughter.

.

...

.

Does he really have to shout like that? It's positively deafening. Gale sinks into the armchair with his head in his hands as I slip into the back hall to retrieve my dress and change. As I regretfully slip out of the soft fabric of Gale's shirt I blush, remembering where his hand had seemed to burn a hole in its side where he unceremoniously grabbed me. For a moment there, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me.

Would I have let him? I'm not sure I want my first kiss to be from someone who is in love with my best friend, nor someone who supposedly hates my guts. Even if they _are_ wonderful with their adorable baby sister and breathtaking shirtless. Urgh, what am I thinking? Of course he wasn't going to kiss me, he was just being kind because I was starting to ramble. Why do I always do that? I'm doing it now, damnit. Focus Madge, get dressed and get out.

He looks less distraught when I re-enter the room, standing flicking through the book and smiling softly at something secret. His gaze lifts from the pages when I creep over to hand back his shirt.

"Thanks for that," I mumble.

"No problem," his voice sounds suddenly deep and husky, he coughs to clear it. "What happened to your dress anyway?"

"Er...it's a long story." I bluff, hoping he won't question me further on just how long I was waiting for him inside his warm home with his incredible family. I don't want to talk about how it made my heart ache to see Posy and Hazelle's bone-deep bond as I searched fruitlessly through my memory for the last time my mother addressed me directly. I swallow thickly in the silence as his eyes narrow and rove over my face. Eventually he shrugs and pulls the filthy shirt off his back, making me blush furiously when I catch an accidental glimpse of his toned stomach as he pulls on the snow white button down. I watch him stride past me to place the book on the sparse shelf set aside for their few yellowing volumes,

"Thanks for this," He touches the spine, slate grey eyes boring into mine. "Posy's going to love seeing the pictures, I'll make sure they look after it. I have to say, you've got good timing. I was running out of ideas for your daring adventures..."

"No worries," I grin. "I just wanted you to know that...I'm glad we're friends." He smiles a little strangely, his lopsided grin a poor shadow of the smile I could grow to love.

"Me too, Princess." He sighs. We stand awkwardly in opposite corners of the small room until Hazelle enters with Posy on her hip.

"It's time we left for the viewing, its quarter past seven and we've still to check in. Gale nods mutely and takes Posy as my mouth drops open in horror.

"Oh no, is that the time already? I completely lost track. Hazelle, thank you so much for having me."

"No problem sweetheart, come back anytime, you hear?" She envelopes me in a bone-crushing hug before I can grab my coat and yank my arms through the sleeves whilst ignoring Gale's questioning frown. Posy starts to squawk and reach out her chubby little arms so I run to drop a quick kiss on top of her flaming red hair.

"Princess Madge, aren't you coming to see Catnip on T.V? I thought you guys were friends..." She questions suspiciously.

"I am Pose, and we are. I'm just very late to meet a friend." I explain.

"I thought _Gale_ was your friend?" she questions further before Hazelle jokingly clamps a hand over her tiny mouth and tells me to run while I still can. With one last glance at a now thunderous Gale, I dash from the tiny house and run full pelt towards the Town Square.

As luck would have it, just as I reach the edge of the Marketplace I smack full pelt into two Peacekeepers trawling the streets for civilians trying to avoid the yearly bloodbath that opens the Games.

"Miss, you're going to have to come with us. The mandatory viewing of the 74th annual Hunger Games will begin presently."A small fat man puffs his chest out as he speaks. I do my best to simply shove past them but their broad shoulders prove formidable barriers.

"Look, I just need to go meet my escort, he's waiting for me right over there-"

"Sure sweet cheeks," The fat one smirks. "If you think we're going to let you scamper off and hide you've got another thing coming. _We'll _be your escorts now." His lanky friend snickers quietly and before I can protest they grab an arm each and drag me roughly in the direction of the viewing bay, letting my knees drag painfully through the red gravel as I try desperately to wriggle from their grip.

"What the hell is your problem?" I spit. Before they can answer, I hear a familiar voice approaching.

"Get your hands off of her! Do you know who that is you're dragging through the street?"

"Buckley?"  
>"Darius!" My poor knees have never been more pleased to see those twinkling green eyes, even if they are flecked with an unfamiliar rage I hope never to have directed at me.<p>

"That is Mayor Undersee's _daughter _you jackass, let her go before she tells him what happened!" The effect is instantaneous, and I'm immediately dropped, picked up and dusted off by my two suddenly nervous captors.

"We're mighty sorry Miss Undersee we just didn't recognise you without your Daddy," the lanky one intones, scratching the back of his head dumbly.

"Yes well, just get lost before I report you to Cray." Darius bites, looking angrier than I've ever seen him. He waits until they've scurried round the corner with their tails between their legs before dropping to his knees to inspect mine.

"Are you alright, did they hurt you?" He demands, gently examining the tiny scrapes.

"No of course not, they were just power tripping. Get off the ground, your uniform is filthy! You'll get in trouble..." I try to yank him to his feet but he stays put until he's sure my legs aren't going to fall off. Once upright he pulls me close for a hug, making me feel doubly guilty for forgetting to meet him.

"I'm so sorry I'm late."

"That's alright." He smiles softly. "What kept you?" I swallow and fix my eyes on the ground as I prepare to lie to my best friend. I can't put my finger on why, but telling Darius I was late because I was visiting with Gale seems like a really bad idea.

"I was er...reading and I um...lost track of time. Sorry?" I finish lamely. He tips my chin with his finger to meet his eyes.

"There's no need to apologise Undersee, I know how you get with those fleabitten books." He grins. Surely no amount of awkwardness avoided is worth this level of guilt, and I swear right then and there never to lie to Darius Buckley again. A promise I would live to break one too many times.

"Shouldn't we go? We're probably already late..." I turn towards the viewing bay, eager to change the subject.

.

...

.

The viewing has begun when we reach the bay, and I stop dead in my tracks when we join the crowd just in time to hear the countdown, to see the tubes containing the District tributes rise from the uneven ground to reveal twenty-four terrified children. Peeta stands dignified as the Gamemakers continue their talking clock routine, shaking his head almost imperceptibly to someone on his left. It's Katniss, I'm sure of it.

"_5...4...3...2..1...Happy Hunger Games!"_

Then, all hell breaks loose. My hand drifts to my mouth as children begin to cry and hide in their mothers' skirts when the huge male Career from 2 claims an iron broadsword and the first kill. Another three fall soon after, with a few tributes from 5 and 11 avoiding the Cornucopia entirely and running for the dense woods that will serve as this I'm not sure if I'm religious, but I pray anyway as I wait for the girl on fire to appear. I close my eyes momentarily, needing to ground myself in this world of blood and screaming. Everything is red, and I have no idea where to look.

Suddenly, someone in the crowd shouts her name and people begin to point to the corner of the screen where a tanned girl with a long brain is being pursued by a female Career. Without warning the screen switches to Katniss' terrified face, reaching down to grab a compact red backpack just as the girl (from Two, I think) launches a volley of evil looking knives at her exposed back.

I bite down on my hand to stop myself from crying out, I will _not _give those monsters in the Capitol the satisfaction of seeing my fear. I feel Darius' arm encircle my shoulders, lending me his quiet strength. _That should be me running for my life._

One of the knives hits it's mark, burying itself in the red backpack now slung across her back, making her stumble before the male tribute from Seven gets in the way of one of the knives and distracts Katniss' pursuer. I let out a small sob of relief as the camera switches focus moments after showing my friend disappear swiftly into the woods. She made it.

The District erupts into cheers, but I feel no inclination to celebrate. The Games have only just begun...

.

...

.

_**A/N: Sorry! I know I said that this Chapter would contain the meeting with Mac, but the scenes on Madge's front porch and in the Hawthorne's front room really ran away with me :S I promise I'm not substituting plot with fluff and angst, I just felt like Madge's introduction into Gale's home life deserved to be told in full. The next chapter will DEFINATELY move the D12 resistance forward, and will include the story of the shirt! (It's not actually that long, haha). I know the paragraph describing the opening of the Games is probably completely wrong, but I've loaned out my copy of THG so I was unable to check canon compliancy. Please bear with me and I'll come back and redraft it when I get the book back :)**_

_**I'd like to say a big thank you to my lovely beta-reader SrpiaEahn for all the guidance she has given me on past chapters. Unfortunately she has decided to take an indefinite break from the Gadge world, so if anyone would be willing to take over from her and beta for me I would be very grateful. Please send me a message if you're interested (It can be on a really casual 'PM-ing plot points' basis if you don't feel you can commit fully to proofreading, I mostly want to know that someone agrees with where I'm taking the story in each given chapter and would welcome any creative input!)**_


	15. Here It Goes

_**A/N: Wow, it's been three months! I can't believe how long it's taken me to sit down to write this, all I can say is that I'm really sorry if anyone was waiting for the next chapter. My only excuse is that I'm now studying abroad in the US, and it's taken me a long time regulate my new work/life balance around the sheer awesomeness this year has brought. But here goes! If anyone is still reading, I really do hope you enjoy this even half as much as I enjoyed writing it :)**_

_**Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, and the plot is based on Suzanne Collins "The Hunger Games". I assume you all know this, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Also, there are a few sweary words so I apologise in advance to any readers with particularly delicate sensibilities. Much love!**_

.

...

.

"_He's not coming back, is he?" I murmur to the damp midday air, staring blankly at the glasses of juice still untouched on my front porch as I feel my neck and ears begin to burn. Even if I make sure no one will ever know how long I waited for Gale Hawthorne that day, I know - and that's embarrassment enough. _

_What is it with this guy? I do my best to resist the urge to stamp my feet like the spoilt brat he thinks I am. First he brings me free strawberries for no reason, then tells me (rather rudely) that we're friends and runs off without a word. Why does everything have to be so intense between us? No one __else__ I know looks at me like they're deciding whether I'm predator or prey. _

_I lie down against the peeling paint covering the porch with a loud huff, letting the full force of the sun's rays permeate my pale skin. Behind my eyes swirls the vivid memory of my cheek pressed to Gale's rain-soaked shirtsleeve as he cried for his dead father, the heat of his skin burning through the material of our clothes when I leant against his side. I feel the same jolt I did the day of the Reaping when his steely grey eyes met mine as the hover train carried Katniss to the Capitol. _

_Sitting up I move my knees to rest beneath my chin and take a calming sip of cool orange liquid, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. The surly hunter and I have shared grief, secrets, prejudice, fear, even a best friend. He's been a willing partner in the dangerous dance I've begun with a rebel network shrouded in mystery, yet when he brings me an olive branch and finally calls me 'friend' I treat him like a stranger. No wonder he left, maybe I really offended him? It's not like it's difficult to do... I chew my lip and stare miserably at the cobbles he saved me from earlier, wondering how on earth to apologise without making him even more angry. To a guy like Gale pride is everything, and I embarrassed him._

_I'm wrenched from my moping by a sharp cry from upstairs, and my heart drops to my stomach as I recognise my mother's voice. I hear the glasses shatter as I knock them onto the cobbles in my haste to scramble inside. Throwing myself up the stairs, I don't bother to knock before pulling the door open to reveal my sickly mom. Her beautiful golden hair is plastered to her face with sweat, her cheeks red and flushed. She's writhing horribly, so violently that I can't grab hold of her shoulders to keep her still enough to press a cold cloth to her forehead. _

"_Mom...Mom please, I need you to tell me where you're hurting." I beg, starting to panic and noticing the warm moisture streaming down my cheeks without really realising where it came from. She moans and thrashes, muttering intelligible words and crying out as though attacked._

"_Thirteen...Thir...teen." she mumbles over and over._

"_I don't understand, Mom." I try for a soothing tone but the words come out all wobbly. "I'm so sorry." All I can do is brush her hair from her forehead and rub her back until she eventually collapses in exhaustion, finally ceasing the horrible wailing. _

_Unable to hold myself together a moment longer, I sink to the floor beside the bed. I do my best to cry quietly even as the sobs wrack my chest painfully, stealing my unsteady breath._

"_Where are you, Dad?" I whisper. How can he leave us like this when he knows how it gets? I know it hurts him, but it hurts me too and I'm not sure how many more of her bad days I can handle alone. Eventually I drag myself to my feet and wipe the tears gathered by the puffy shadows under my eyes with the back of my hand. Letting my rational mind take over, I decide to try to fetch Mrs Everdeen. She might be able to give me some calming herbs to counteract the vivid dreams caused by mom's frequent doses of Morphling. I wish there was someone else I could go to...Mrs Everdeen is going through so much right now, but there's nothing else for it._

_After giving Mom one last kiss on the forehead I close the door softly behind me and move to the loft to grab my messenger bag, noting how light it feels without the comforting weight of a book pressing into my shoulder. On impulse, I reach for my favourite childhood book, stroking the gold inlay reverently as my hand grips the soft leather binding. I flashback to a grumpy eight-year-old Gale and the memory makes me smile despite everything. _

_._

_..._

_._

_In moments I'm fleeing through the front door, racing towards the Seam panting and exhilarated. I know from experience that the worst is over, but I won't be able to relax until I know someone has seen her. Plus, I love to run. Ironically, just as I'm smiling at the thought I trip on a wayward branch and take a flying leap straight into something warm and scratchy. Pulling myself up and dusting myself off I begin to cough violently, sending cloud upon cloud of coal dust swirling into the muggy air. My white dress is covered in thick dark powder, leaving it pleasingly unrecognisable. Suddenly I know where I've landed...the infamous Slag Heap. _

_I've never been here before, so I take a distracted moment to observe my surroundings. I've heard the stories of course, everyone has. Tales of hungry kisses and illicit couplings run riot in the school cafeteria, but seeing it first-hand I can't help wondering what the hell the attraction is.  
>I mean it's defiantly private, but surely it must be really uncomfortable. Plus it's not exactly my definition of romantic. Gale's name comes up a lot when people gossip about the Slag Heap, paired with almost every pretty girl in the Seam as far as I can remember. The thought of their boastful whispers about his talented hands and lips makes my fists clench and my blood boil. I give up trying to make myself look presentable and begin to stomp towards the Everdeens', hobbling a little on my slightly twisted ankle and not entirely sure why I feel a strong urge to hit something. <em>

"_Stupid branch, stupid Slag Heap...stupid Gale Hawthorne!" I mutter mutinously._

"_You alright there love?"_

_My head snaps round until my eyes find the owner of the familiar lilting voice. The last time I saw her she was heavily pregnant but there's no mistaking the fine features she shares with her children and the striking eyes that are her namesake. It's Hazelle Hawthorne. _

_She carries an empty hand-woven laundry basket in her chapped red hands and wears a thin brown shawl that clashes wildly with her beautiful red hair._

"_It's Madge, isn't it?" I nod mutely. "You look so much like your aunt Maysilee."_

"_You knew my aunt?" I whisper. _

"_Oh yes." Her eyes twinkle. "I apologise sincerely for whatever my wayward son has done to deserve your ire, I've tried to beat him into submission but I'm a sucker for the smile. It's his father's, what's a girl to do?" her eyes are bright and teasing. I smile wryly, cursing the fact that I echo her sentiment entirely._

"_Sorry Mrs Hawthorne, I'm fine really. I just um...fell." I begin lamely. "I came to look for Mrs Everdeen, my Mom's really sick and I was hoping there would be something she could give her for the pain."_

_Hazelle's eyes soften and her face wears an unbearably kind expression. "Oh I'm sorry to hear that hon but I'm afraid Alice is out for the day. She's off gathering herbs by the fence with Primrose to take her mind off tonight, they won't be back for hours yet." She steps forward and lays a hand on my shoulder._

"_Oh, th-thank you for letting me know." The comforting gesture proves too much for my fragile composure, and to my horror my eyes begin to water. Gale's mom makes a soft clucking noise and pulls me into a warm hug, leaving me unable to resist the tears pushing at my waterline. She holds me for a few minutes while I cry, rubbing my back and murmuring soothing words only a mother can conjure._

"_I'm sorry, this is stupid. I'm just so worried, she's getting worse and my Dad's away and-"_

"_That's enough of that talk" Hazelle interrupts sternly, eyes flashing. "It's not stupid at all. Your Mom's illness is more than anyone should have to deal with on their own, I don't know what the Mayor was thinking leaving you alone like that." She frowns, and I notice her wince as her eyes flicker up to the camera looming above our heads. They're always watching._

"_He's really busy with work at the minute, he'll be home soon." I defend him weakly, wiping my eyes with a filthy sleeve. Hazelle arches an eyebrow but doesn't say another word on the matter._

"_Well, how about you come home with me to wait for Alice? Gale's not in you'll be pleased to hear, and I know his little sister would love to meet you." I frown questioningly at the knowing smirk on her face before answering._

"_That's really kind of you to offer Mrs Hawthorne, but I couldn't impose."_

"_Call me Hazelle, please. 'Mrs Hawthorne' makes me think of my late mother-in-law..." She gives an exaggerated shudder, making me giggle, "and it would be no imposition, we'd love to have you. Maybe you could distract Vick and Posy so I can get some work done?" She winks._

"_Well, if you're sure..." Hazelle answers by looping my arm in hers, frogmarching me to the familiar front porch I once visited nightly to leave what little I could for her grieving family. _

.

...

.

Chapter 15: Here It Goes

I stare blankly at the darkening sky above the empty screen as I wait for Darius to clock off duty, a strange mix of relief and foreboding swirling and staining my thoughts. _She made it..._but for what?

Imagining what horrors await my brave friend in the morning sends a shiver down my spine, making the rolling grey of the night time clouds seem infinite and insidious. I pull my long sleeved dress down at the arms to encase my hands before wrapping them snugly around my stomach against the sharp evening breeze. I'm alone, the square cleared quickly when the bloodbath ended. The worst part was the _screaming, _all those horrible cries echoed hauntingly by the youngest kids to escape a similar fate. The Games have done their job well this year, the District is terrified.

"Hey," his voice is soft tonight, it sounds defeated.

"Hey," I murmur in return, swivelling to meet the red rimmed eyes of Gale Hawthorne.

My heart aches because he looks so _old..._older than any nineteen year old should. His broad shoulders are hunched and his strong jaw ticks in frustration. He's holding himself awkwardly, as though the muscles are barely holding his tired limbs together. All we seem able to do is stare, neither of us needing or willing to voice our thoughts on the hour we've been dreading since they took her away. Under the shadow of the giant screens our plans seem small, insignificant and futile in the face of such great and terrible force.

Without warning he reaches forward to clasp my hand, his long purposeful strides pulling me gently behind the shops on the right side of the square. There, in the near pitch darkness he lets go of my shaking fingers. I rest my back against the chilly wall as he begins to pace, hands raking distractedly through his unruly hair. After just a few moments of watching it becomes too much, so I reach out to lay a hand on his arm. I don't think about it really, I just need to make some attempt to soothe the barely concealed anger simmering below his olive skin. Then I wait. I wait for the inevitable torrent of biting words and raw hate, hardening my skin to allow myself to be what he needs – a punching bag. I think I need this too. Maybe when he tells me it's all my fault then I'll finally be able to cry.

I sniffle slightly and he wordlessly draws nearer, a surprisingly tender expression on his face. His long forearms move to lean against the wall behind me, encasing me like that time in the loft only this time his forehead is millimetres from mine as his laboured breaths skim my cheeks. His tangible despair makes me long for a time when a simple touch brought comfort instead of confusion, for when holding him didn't feel like some sort of unspoken betrayal.

When his face crumples and falls it takes all of my courage to reach up and cup the side of his rough jaw, a shaky breath catching painfully in my throat as he swallows thickly, eyes never leaving mine. I stroke my thumb gently across his cheek where the dirt of the day is lined with tracks from the moment I know he allowed himself to let go. He closes his silver eyes at my touch and I wish more than anything that we could have shared in that freedom - a Mayor's daughter doesn't lose control in public after all, it just isn't proper.

"What are we going to do, Gale?" My voice cracks as I trace the line where his beard is growing in and I _hate_ how small it sounds. His impossibly warm palm moves to cover the back of mine as his long fingers wrap around my pulse point, sending his impossible heat straight to my bloodstream. His other arm slips between my back and the frozen wall, drawing me into his chest. We stand like that for what seems like an age before his gruff voice breaks the silence.

"Shit, Madge. Your hands are freezing."

He chuckles softly as I wrench my hand away muttering grumpy apologies, moving his arm to allow a little more space between us. Rolling his eyes he grabs it back, taking my other hand in his and encasing them both in his calloused palms before raising them to his lips. For a mad moment I flush deeply, thinking he's going to kiss them. To my immense confusion he simply blows gently into the cocoon he's created for my icy fingers, warming every inch of my shivering frame before rubbing them vigorously to increase my circulation. A small sigh of pleasure escapes my lips, making his silver eyes bore into mine. They hold my startled gaze unerringly, dancing with amusement at the sight of my obvious indecision between relaxation and embarrassment.

"I do this for Posy when the heat is down." He explains. "Even us lowly Seamfolk own sweaters though, what's your excuse?" he riles with a smirk, quirking a formidable eyebrow and gripping my hands tighter when I try again to yank them from his grasp in half hearted annoyance.

"Bully." I mutter wryly, inexplicably relieved by the return of his familiar wolfish grin.

He drops my hands like hot coals when a merchant woman exits the back door of the sweet shop out onto the alley, staring at us like fish in a tank. I can't help quirking my brown in challenge at the audacity of her icy, blue-eyed stare. When she finally stalks past us we're left with a loaded silence I don't have the energy to analyze, so I turn and head back out to the Square without bothering to check if he follows.

Right on cue Darius jogs out of the Justice Building having changed back into his jeans and a black shirt that makes his hair seem brighter than usual when thrown into such sharp contrast. He must note my forlorn expression, because as soon as he reaches me his arms are wrapped around me in a gentle embrace. Surprised, I allow myself a moment to breathe in his familiar sent, drawing as much comfort and warmth as possible from the innocent exchange before Gale's icy presence chills the atmosphere. He's back to scowling, all traces of pain and vulnerability gone in a way that makes me doubt they were ever there at all. I startle slightly when Darius brushes his lips against my forehead, looking up in time to catch his slightly guilty expression. He shrugs and begins to rummage in his large standard issue peacekeeper backpack as I studiously ignore the crackling tension radiating from our ally.

"Here, thought you might need this." Darius grins, handing me a thick jumper I immediately recognise as his. I yank it gratefully over my head, smiling my thanks as the wool begins to ensnare my pathetic excuse for body heat.

"I got one for you too, I had no idea it would be this cold tonight. Luckily I always keep a few spares in the office just in case." He extends the other to Gale with a cheery smile, receiving only a formidable glare in return. "Alright Hawthorne, suit yourself. Freeze for all I care." He snorts, stuffing it back into his backpack. He seems as unperturbed as always by Gale's attitude, but I'm annoyed for him. Everyone knows Gale hates favours but it was only a stupid jumper and it _is _freezing. Why does he always have to be so unnecessarily rude to people who're only trying to help? Trying my best not to huff, I hold my tongue whilst digging the toe of my boot into the gravel of the square.

Ever the perceptive one, Darius picks up on our frosty glances. "Have you two been fighting again?" he smirks, arms folded as though he were the long-suffering parent of a couple of toddlers.

"No!" I reply, at the exact same time Gale sates plainly, "Yes." I open my mouth to ask him what the hell his problem is, when Darius rests a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Look I don't know what it was this time, and to be honest I don't care. We haven't got long before curfew, and if we're caught outside it could be bad news for all of us." He reminds us carefully. Gale's frown just deepens but I mutter a guilty apology. Darius tugs gently on a curl that escaped my ponytail with a small smile, turning to lead us towards the Victor's Village.

"I checked where Mac's office is earlier, it's not far. I was knocking the door for about half an hour though, he tends to get pretty caught up in all those gadgets."

"Gadgets?" Gale visibly brightens, and I eye him suspiciously.

"Yep, his workshop is full of computers, spare parts and whirring noises. I've never seen so many machines in one place here in 12, they like to keep this place pretty backwards. Apparently whatever he's working on now is for us - he told me he'd show us tonight." The boys exchange an excited glance and I do my best not to roll my eyes. I subconsciously try to recreate the warmth in the alley by rubbing my hands together before catching Gale smirk in my general direction. Asshole.

Something about technology makes me uneasy. Perhaps it's because I prefer what I can touch, see, and hear as opposed to something that's inner workings are hidden behind layers of plastic and metal. Then again, maybe I'm just worried about what we're getting ourselves into.

.

...

.

It's too easy, with her. Too damn easy.

I'd only just pulled myself together to put Posy to bed when I left, just as Ma began to speak gently to Vick and Rory about death. She spun them some story about a special place for children in heaven where no one has to work, or get hurt or go to bed hungry. As I stood in the doorframe and listened, I wished more than anything that I was young enough to believe her. Who the hell knows? Maybe there is such a thing as heaven. But that doesn't change the fact that when someone dies, they're gone.

Then there she was shivering under the stars...and I couldn't help myself. I don't even want to know what it all means, her and I. What's the point in figuring it out when no matter how many friends disappear off into the ether, no matter how many rebellions we plan together, and no matter how good her hands feel in mine we will always be fundamentally different? It's useless to need her now. It's all I can think about as that blond wench from the sweet shop stares at us like a freak show, how useless it all is.

She's gone before I can speak, before I can even formulate what I could say to make her feel better like she does so easily for me. Then_ he's_ there, and she looks peaceful in his arms. I begin to analyse why the sight makes me feel hollow, soon tucking those thoughts away in favour of watching her turn an attractive shade of pink when I catch her using my trick. At least I gave her something tonight. I drop a few metres behind them when a gaggle of Peacekeepers pass by on their way to patrol, three of us would look suspicious and it's clear who the odd one out is in this equation. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth when she immediately notices my absence, turning with raised eyebrows to give me a sassy glare that orders me without words to get a move on. I oblige, and she shoots me a careful smile that tells me I'm forgiven. I answer in our usual silent manner with a light brush of my hand to her sweater covered back, my chest tightening when I notice she's still shivering.

This technology Darius is yapping about sounds incredible. I've been devouring the books I borrowed from Madge's library on radios and wavelength communications. Darius is right too, we aren't taught about these things in school for a reason – they're necessary skills for someone planning a rebellion. Madge is eyeing me suspiciously as we approach the Victor's Village so I do my best to keep my questioning vague and innocent. I don't need her poking her nose where it doesn't belong i.e; my business. We reach the edge of the circle of grandiose houses and as usual I'm irked by the emptiness that surrounds them. The crazy thing is, that the rent for these houses is the same as in the Seam. The only reason they stay empty is because they have to be kept free for all the D12 Victors that never come home. Except for that good-for-nothing drunk Haymitch Abernathy - he's still kicking around, unfortunately. We decide to split up and go to Mac's door one by one in case we've been followed.

Madge volunteers, setting off a volley of protests from Darius and I that fall on deaf ears as usual. Selectively deaf ears, mind you. Somehow they work perfectly when she catches me insulting our mutual ginger friend. Before either of us can say our piece she's marching off towards the workshop like a herd of fairy elephants, crunching and stomping and tripping over innocently placed rocks. How can someone so small make so much noise? After what seems like an age of waiting for that group of peacekeepers to come back and haul her off she reaches the door, knocks, and disappears immediately inside.

I barely hold bite back a bark of laughter when I catch sight of Darius' incredulous expression.

"I knew that damn robot didn't like me." He gripes as we wait the agreed five minutes before heading into the (hopefully) warm building.

"I wouldn't take it personally, it's probably just the uniform. I did some digging on him the other day and it sounds like some of your lot messed him up pretty bad when he was kicked out of D3." I placate.

"They aren't all like that, you know." He mutters tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his fists like a sleepy child.

"I know." I sigh, wishing I knew what to say to him about stuff like this. It took me a long time to trust him fully, not as long as Katniss...but long enough. Now I'd trust him with my life without a second thought, which is good because there's a fine chance I might have to. He might get on my nerves sometimes, but he and Bristel are like brothers to me.

"So do I want to know what happened back there?"

"Huh?"

"You and Undersee, what were you arguing about?" His eyes are uncharacteristically narrow and sharp.

"Nothing." I mutter quickly, not sure how to explain our loaded exchange but damn positive that I don't want to try.

"Bullshit." He snorts, trying and failing to wipe the residual anger from his face. "She hates it when you fight, you know." He says, quieter.

I swallow, not sure how to respond. "What are you on about? You've heard her when she gets going, loves a good argument that one." I try for dismissive humour but his relentlessly cheerful face chooses now to stay serious.

"She doesn't, it hurts her." He looks confused. "I don't know why...but it does."

"Darius, look..." I begin quickly, but he cuts me off.

"I know her." He states simply. I'm saved from figuring out a reply when he glances at his Dad's battered leather watch and walks to the door without a word. I watch him wait agitatedly for almost ten minutes before I march over to batter it down. Just as I reach the front step the heavy oak swings on its hinges to reveal a bright, yellow walled staircase winding deep underground.

"Son of a..." Darius mutters mutinously as I shrug and begin to make my way down the steps, strange noises reaching my straining ears.

A strangely dim light fills the large room, from multiple monitors with black and while screens surrounded by tiny flashing coloured bulbs. It's like a maze, with cables lining the floor like thin black snakes and a low ceiling that my head brushes if I stand straight. Strange posters line lockers attached to the dark walls, but I don't recognise the people depicted or the odd slogans they hold.

"Are we going the right way?" I mutter over my shoulder, opening a light steel door to enter a room filled with what looks to be uniforms.

"I'm not sure," he admits. "Mac led me last time, I wasn't paying attention to where we were going." I groan in frustration, heading further and further underground for this stupid meeting was not part of the plan.

"How is this place so big?"

"Mac says he found it like this, but steel like that comes from three." He points to the strange door we entered through. "I went to a training camp in D3 a year after initiation and the simulated raids always featured those doors. They look light and easily breached but the electronics are tricksy, we were warned to be wary of anyone or any_thing_ hidden behind them." The tempered nerves discernible in his tone put me on edge, so I instinctually silence my footsteps as though I were outside the fence stalking game.

"Let's split up." I say when we reach two identical doors at opposite ends of the rectangular room.

"You read my mind, Hawthorne." He grins. I snort and shove him towards the one on the left as I slip through the right hand door, glad he seems to have forgotten our conversation from before. Maybe he's just beginning to regret letting Madge enter this strange underground network alone the same way I am. The room is crammed with drawers and cupboards housing mountains of paper. I try to crane my neck over the filing cabinets I'm gingerly sidestepping but neither Mac nor Madge are anywhere to be found. Various suspicions dart through my hunter's brain, reminding me that we don't know this Mac guy all that well. Cursing myself for entrusting him with my...whatever Madge is - I begin to jog round corners and past tables housing strange looking trinkets and mountains of paper, calling them as I go.

"Oi Princess, Robo-geek...where the hell are you?" I bark, frustrated.

After a few more minutes of darting through the web of boxes and files I hear something welcome. "There you are," sounds a calm voice to my left that I have to step over some more piles of paper to follow. Mac is standing halfway through another one of the strange steel doors, the dim light glinting on his glasses so that I can't see his eyes.

"I wondered where you'd got to." He smiles amiably.

"Where's Madge?" I demand, feeling irritable and uncomfortable in this stuffy labyrinth of a workshop.

He smirks, stepping aside to reveal yet another small room. I stride through, muttering threats until I catch sight of her startled blue eyes, framed by unruly curls rapidly escaping from their half-hearted ponytail. Her cheeks and nose are flushed pink from the cold, but other than that she looks unharmed. I notice her pink lips form a small 'o' as she blows on the steaming drink clasped between her hands before pulling myself together.

"You both sure took your time getting cosy. What is this place anyway?" I grumble as she hops down from her perch on the granite counter, still unnerved by her lengthy absence.

"Sorry Gretel, the birds must have eaten the trail of crumbs." She snickers, turning to pick up another mug and handing it to me. "How is it that you can navigate the woods but not an old warehouse?" I scowl furiously at her impish expression but she merely raises an eyebrow and nods toward our quiet companion. "Mac made us hot chocolate." Much to my chagrin, she smiles fondly at the boy wonder as though he was an adorable puppy that brought her back a nice soggy stick.

"It was the least I could do, the weather's taken quite a turn." He smiles back mildly, shrugging a little.

"Well in any case, it was very kind. Hang on, where's Darius?" she peers behind me, searching. "Did you leave him waiting outside all this time?" Her eyes flash dangerously, clearly anxious.

"Of course not," I snap. "We split up to look for you."

"Oh," she blinks, "Sorry." Her tone is strange, but she rushes past me before I can properly gauge her expression. "I'll go find him."

I turn to get a better look at Mac Headquarters, allowing myself a jaw drop when I see the stacks of screens lining the right hand wall behind a number of computers. Mac is clicking away on the largest of the three when I move behind his chair to more closely examine the black and white screens. After a moment, I spot something I would recognise anywhere in the centre screen- The Seam.

"How?" I direct to thin air, suddenly confounded by possibilities I'd never dreamed of.

"I'm good at what I do." Mac replies, smiling. "These are Capital feeds from all over D12 that I've managed to hack. I can't control the cameras or disrupt them in any way, but for the first time-"

"We can see what they see." I interrupt, staring at the familiar scenes of D12 life, blood beginning to simmer gently in my veins as I realise they really do witness everything. A horrid thought suddenly crosses my mind, necessitating a quick question void of my usual caution - "the fence?" I ask breathlessly, wondering if I need to pack up my family and leave anytime soon.

"Nothing." Mac shakes his head confidently. "That was the first place I checked. There's an old feed but no camera, it was probably taken down after the post dark-days budgets cuts to the eastern Districts."

"Thanks." I reply, meaning it.

All of a sudden the steel door swings open to reveal a limping Darius, gingerly held up by a pale-faced Madge. "What the hell happened to you?" I demand,

"Nothing," he mutters, shrugging Madge off a little too roughly for my liking and hobbling into a chair, pain twisting his features.

"Did you break him?" Mac attempts to direct a joke at Madge but she's suspiciously quiet, her slender arms hugging her stomach and her top two teeth biting into her soft full lips.

"It's just a sprain. I tripped over some wires and Undersee here helped me find my way." He's staring at the ground too and I feel like shaking him to make him spit it. I settle instead for glancing between them suspiciously until Mac clears his throat.

"I do apologise for this place. It's a little out of sorts,"

"I'll say," Darius interjects bitterly.

"It was buried underground for a long time before the Victor's Village was built over the land. It's taken me a long time to move my stuff down here and secure the place." He shrugs.

"We understand Mac." Madge interjects kindly. "Now that we're all here, are you ready to get started?"

"I'm ready when you are"

We all nod in acquiescence and he begins to take us through each screen one by one, explaining where they are, what they can see and how we can use the information. At this, Madge perks up and begins to ask questions. All Darius does is watch her from the corner of his eye until he realises he's been caught, hardening his face to any scrutiny under my questioning glance.

"What are these feeds? I don't recognise the streets, the buildings or the plants," Madge distracts me from my glaring by pointing to a screen on the top left.

"That's D11." Mac smiles serenely at our gasps of disbelief. "It's a slow process, but I'm gaining access to feeds from other Districts. The picture is terrible, but if we ever found a way to communicate with them they could be part of an early-warning system for people attempting to undermine the Capitol."

"That is _brilliant_ Mac!" exclaims Madge, eyes shining. The blue fire licks at her lashes, igniting my own with her contagious excitement. "Where do we start?"

.

...

.

_**A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you like how the resistance is taking shape, is Mac's influence too farfetched? I hope you enjoyed the flashback about the story of the dress, the other half will be at the beginning of the next chapter. Including the whole thing in this one made the chapter ridiculously long and convoluted. Again I really do apologise for how long it took me to post this, I promise to do my best to make more time for chapter 16.**_

_**Speaking of which, I'd like to take the opportunity to thank those of you who have left a review or messaged me to let me know you're enjoying this story so far. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kind words and constructive criticism, they are what keep me motivated to continue this story. I was so scared to even post chapter 1, which was originally supposed to be a one-shot! So let me know if I'm taking a turn you don't like or find inauthentic, because this story has become as much yours as it is mine.**_


	16. Half Right

_**A/N: I'm back! Thank you guys for leaving such encouraging reviews for Chapter 15, I was worried you were all fed up with waiting and had stopped reading. I really appreciate your support, especially when life is crazy and updates are so few and far between. A HUGE thank you to sngsngsnyrslp for giving me such a lovely 100**__**th**__** review! **_

_**Just to clarify (a few people have quite rightly asked), I have no intention of stopping this story. I have ideas planned for all three books so I will definitely keep updating, even if I have to take a few months hiatus now and again. I'm also probably losing some readers due to the snail pace of the romance, but please bear in mind that it's only the second day of the games so far and I DO have a plan. Gale and Madge will indeed have their moment and many more besides ;) **_

_**I'm also still beta-less, so feel free to point out anything you'd like corrected.**_

_**P.S. If you want a sneak peek of a later chapter I wrote sometime before Christmas featuring some angsty Gadge romance, I'll leave a link at the bottom! You will be reading ahead, but I've taken care not to give away an exact time/location ;) **_

.

...

.

Chapter 16: Half Right

.

.

.

_I'm barely settled with my hot chocolate when Gale comes bursting through Mac's office door, eyes ablaze._

_At first my face remains frozen in surprise but one look at his grouchy expression and ruffled hair has me fighting back a giggle. He denies me the pleasure of guessing what got his knickers in a twist by barking something about looking for me, and suddenly his frazzled demeanour becomes more endearing than funny. _

_Rather than ruminate on that thought I awkwardly excuse myself to find Darius, because in all honesty (despite his recent bout of gallantry) I still wouldn't put it past Gale to have locked him out in the cold as punishment for the jumper debacle. _

_It takes longer than it should for me to get to the front of the warehouse because I can't help lingering to examine the many strange objects drawing my eyes from the blank, narrow hallways leading to my friend. The musty underground air somehow whispers of bygone days, its particles reflecting strange lights gleaming with hints of daring and adventure. Some insatiable part of me wants to unravel these quiet unknowns, whilst my practical side realises that even Mac himself doesn't know the true extent of this place and its secrets. _

_A muted string of curse words hurry me into the next room, but its a few minutes before I hear another sound. The silence proves long enough to make me think I was just hearing things before my craning ears are rewarded with a definitive answer._

"_Gale! This isn't funny you bastard, get back here!" _

_The unmistakeable bellow sounds like it came from behind the maze of cabinets so I retrace my steps as quickly as possible before tearing round the corner and tripping over a thick rope of wires. I cry out, bracing myself, but I land on something soft that happens to yelp in pain on contact._

"_Darius! I'm so sorry, I just..." _

_I scramble frantically to disentangle myself from my friend, startling when his hands grasp my shoulders to stop my wriggling.  
>"Tripped," he finishes wryly, "Yes thank you, I noticed. Will you hold still for a second? You're too close to my er...'package' for all that jostling." <em>

_It's then that I notice for the first time that he's on his back, and that my position on top of him is both suggestive and highly uncomfortable. Upon closer inspection I notice that he's holding his features strangely, tensing his forehead in pain. He must pickup on my scrutiny because he tips his head with a cheeky grin in recognition of our awkward positioning, prompting me to roll my eyes. Eventually he carefully guides my left leg to my right, allowing me to scramble safely to my knees before beginning to explain himself._

"_I slipped on the same damn wires, twisted my ankle. This place is a death-trap." He huffs after an awkward protracted silence. _

"_Are you sure it's not broken?!"_

_I worry out loud, glancing anxiously at his foot and wishing I'd stuck in with first aid at school. _

"_...because if it's broken you can't go to the PK infirmary, they'll never buy some story about you falling on duty! They might detain..."_

"_Oh hush," He interrupts me gently, smiling a little. "It's just a sprain, we get them all the time during agility training so it's an easy one to explain. Relax, Undersee."_

"_Well you were gone for ages Buckley, so please excuse any lack of finesse in my haste to rescue you!" I huff. _

_He seems pleased, tapping his chin lightly with a forefinger as though deep in thought._

"_You know, I was perfecting a pretty decent butt-shuffle before you came careening into my path. I'm pretty sure we would have been reunited in around...oh...three hours?" he grins. _

"_Oh, shut up!" I can't help but laugh, giving his broad shoulder a swift shove. "Why didn't you call for help you idiot? Didn't you know Gale found us already?" _

_At this his face falls and he slides his gaze to the ground, refusing to meet my eyes. _

"_Figures." He snorts. "I just...I didn't want..." _

_He fumbles over the words, reaching behind himself to tug on the hair at the base of his neck. The set of his shoulders turn tense, and suddenly the air between us feels thicker than butter._

"_What, Darius?" I snap a little because we always know what the other is talking about, it's kind of our thing. This uncharacteristic mumbling and grumbling is throwing me off my game._

"_I didn't want you to see me like this!" he blurts eventually. _

_Oh._

"_Darius..." I begin awkwardly, mildly annoyed that he thinks I would laugh or make fun of him over something as silly as a sprained ankle. _

"_Don't, Madge" he interrupts, sounding weary. "I'm only human." _

_He speaks softly now, meeting my questioning gaze head on and raising himself by the arms so that our faces are close in the darkness once more. I swallow thickly, wondering why his words make me feel a little flushed. He leans so close that his features are blurred and I can smell the peppermint he always chews on his stuttering breath. _

"_Madge..." he murmurs, sounding strangely husky. _

_At the sound of my name on his lips I stumble backwards in shock, landing squarely on my bottom and leaving Darius' hand hovering in the air where my hair had been. We stare at one another for what seems like hours before his features harden and his gaze slips to the floor once again._

"_Um, I..."_

_I'm not entirely sure what just happened, so I don't know what to say. All I know is that I can't bear the way my best friend is suddenly refusing to look at me.  
>"Can you help me up?" he asks eventually. Calmly, neutrally.<em>

"_Of course," I breathe a tiny sigh of relief because at least he doesn't seem angry with me. _

_Once I've scrambled to my feet he raises his hands for me to pull him up. When he's upright I circle him, checking suspiciously for any other signs of injury and straightening his uniform. He chuckles softly while I work._

"_Alright Undersee, satisfied I'm not bleeding to death?" he grins.  
>Just to spite him I do another circuit before pronouncing my verdict.<br>"For now," I reply grudgingly, reaching up to smooth his collar and pretending I don't notice his eyes skim my face. The ruse goes badly and I feel my cheeks flush pink. _

"_So you came to find me, huh?" he smirks._

_I meet his eyes without a trace of embarrassment._

"_Of course." I state simply. "You found me once."_

_The glorious smile spreading slowly across his face halts abruptly and once again I'm left wondering what it is about such simple words that hurts him._

"_C'mon. We should be getting back." He mumbles, eyes now fixed somewhere above my head. _

_We hobble back in silence, arms wrapped around one another in an awkward embrace. Something about the last few minutes makes me feel tired and frustrated so I tighten my grip around his waist, laying my head on the snow white shoulder of his hateful uniform. He grips my shoulder in answer, turning his chin to place a light kiss on my forehead. I wish desperately that I knew what to say, but we reach the office before long. There I'm preoccupied with studiously avoiding the questioning gaze of a hunter for the remainder of our visit._

.

...

.

"We gather information." He replies simply. "All previous rebellions have failed time and time again because of the rash behaviour of a few individuals. We have to be smart about this or it will turn into a suicide mission."

Madge nods so hard that I worry her head might fall off, shooting meaningful glances to both Darius and I as we exchange an eye roll at the familiar speech.

"Pay attention you oafs!" she fumes. "Mac is right, there's no point in even trying to change things if our efforts end in public executions. All that will do is scare yet another generation into silence, leaving our children... our _children's_ children to be offered as tribute for another seventy-four years. We have a real chance here but we can't lose one other in the process!"

Azure flames lick at her thick eyelashes as she stares me down, speaking softly but with intensity that drives an unwanted shiver down my spine. As she continues verbosely from atop her soap box I find myself staring at her mouth, the way her soft, pink lips part and press together to form a passionate speech about the importance of staying safe. I bite back a derisive snort, because I know she thinks she's the exception to her own damn rule.

It's then that I realise the woman could be selling me extra hours at the mine and I'd find myself nodding along like a lemming, just as long as she looked this way when she spoke.

Perhaps it's something they teach kids in town? Catnip and I are shining examples of the fact that Seamfolk have never had a way with words, whereas baker-boy and my tenuous ally seem to spin them seamlessly to paint dazzling pictures with thin air.

Madge was right after all, Peeta Mellark has changed the way Katniss is portrayed in the arena already. His words have begun to erase the girl I knew, slowly replacing her with one half of a sappy love story, tragic and beautiful as a trashy Capitol novel.

It feels wrong; like she's lying without even truly having responded.

Perhaps what bothers me most is the lingering thought that follows; if pretending saves her life, maybe the truth isn't so important anymore.

I'm brought back to the present when her lips still, eyes still ablaze as she blushes prettily, finally noticing the three grown men hanging on her every word.

"Do any of you realise the significance of this moment?" Mac asks softly, suddenly grinning inexplicably.

"What, Princess Madge finally deigning to shut her trap?" I snap unthinkingly, frustrated by the distraction my ally keeps proving herself to be.

"Hey, watch it!" Darius barks, standing up in what I'm sure he thinks of as a threatening manner.  
>It's my turn to feel hot under the collar when I catch the hurt expression she masks quickly with indifference, refusing to catch my eye whilst turning gracefully to face Mac.<p>

"You were saying?" she asks calmly, hands folded primly in her lap.

"Take a look at us" he shrugs. "An immigrant, a Peacekeeper, an illegal hunter and the Mayor's daughter. All the people the Capitol work so hard to keep separate, here in one room."

"Working together!" Darius grins, catching on.

"Precisely." Mac smirks. "Now we could waste this opportunity with petty grudges, ending this before we begin, or each of us can contribute something to the common goal." His deep brown eyes are sharp and alight.

"Which is?" I ask, intrigued.

"For now?" Mac answers, withdrawing once more, "Bringing your friend home from the Games."

"Sounds good to me." Madge smiles softly, still avoiding any glance in my direction.

It does. Of course it does. Although, somehow Mac has managed to hit on something that's been bothering me since we got here. See Darius and Madge might be fooled by this guy's ideological spiel, but I'm yet to see where we fit in to his unseen plans.

"What about all this?" I sweep an arm to indicate the wall of flickering televisions. "I can understand the magnitude of tapping into their surveillance, but what does any of this have to do with helping Katniss win?"

"Nothing directly." He answers, blinking slowly as though his answer should have been obvious.

"Then what are we all doing here?" I growl, frustrated by his smug expression.

He takes his time answering my question, meeting each of our eyes before answering in his usual monotone manner.

"You're here because you wanted to know where to begin. I am showing you all that this has already begun, and suggesting ways in which you and I could move this resistance forward. We were too late this time, too late for your friend, but if we start over now we could stop the Games in their tracks before any more of your friends or _siblings_ have to die."

It's his longest speech yet, and it irks me. It did not escape my notice that his sharp eyes were on me when he spoke about siblings, nor that his eyes now bore into Madge who stands abruptly with her delicate hands clenched into fists at either side of her slim hips. It seems his suggestive gaze has gotten under her skin too although how, I'm not quite sure.

"What exactly are you saying, Mac?" she spits, her voice dangerously low. "We risked our lives to meet you here and you've been dancing around our questions all night. So if you want us to stay a moment longer I suggest you get to the point. What about the bugs we spoke about in the Hob? What about the surveillance?" she demands.

I stare in mild amusement and reluctant awe at the beautiful stranger in front of me, wondering when my timid townie brat will quit proving me wrong.

While I silently take in the pink flush of anger darkening the graceful column of her neck, Darius moves to slip his fingers round her left wrist. She relaxes visibly, her hard azure eyes still fixed on the serene face of our supposed ally.

"Madge, I think what Mac is trying to say is that neither of you are in any position to carry out any recon right now." He speaks gently.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I bark.

"It means that Katniss is your immediate priority. Neither of you will be able to focus until her fate is decided, one way or another." His fingers clumsily attempt to twine with hers and I fight the urge to yank them apart.

Something has changed between them in the last few minutes, I just can't put my finger on what it is. The innocence of their previous exchanges is gone, replaced somehow by something heavier. I can't explain the painful tug in the pit of my stomach at the thought of what this newness could be, so I don't bother trying.

"She's coming home, Darius." She whispers, looking up at him with watery yet determined eyes. "She has to." I try unsuccessfully to swallow the lump forming in the base of my throat at the sight of her turn her back and angrily swipe at her eyes.

"You're proving my point." Mac interjects calmly, despite Darius shooting him a disapproving look. "Neither of you are ready for this."

"Yet." I stand, jabbing a finger towards the point where his lenses meet. "We aren't ready _yet_. When Katniss...when Katniss leaves the Games, we'll be back." I state firmly, unable to hazard a guess at just how my best friend might end up back in District 12 but sure of where my priorities will lie when she does.

"I'm counting on it," he replies simply. "I meant what I said earlier, you three have something special. The one thing President Snow is truly afraid of more than any weapon or army. Get your heads together and get back here...we need you." He and Madge are still locked in a silent battle of wills, one that leaves her shaking like an autumn leaf from the withering maples I climb to hunt geese.

"I'd like to speak to Mac. Alone." She whispers at first then repeats herself loud and clear. It only takes her pulling her fingers sharply from his grasp for Darius to turn and hobble towards the door, waiting patiently in the cold steel frame for me to follow suit.

"Be there in a minute." I mutter, noting the flash of frustration that crosses his face before he shrugs and leaves the room.

I remain in the shadows with my arms folded, communicating silently to Mac that there will be hell to pay if he upsets Madge further. I assume he understands perfectly from the smirk plastered across his face and the almost imperceptible nod.

Once convinced, I push off the wall and walk the few paces it takes to place my body between Madge and his calculating brown eyes. She stares at the ground, fingers still clenched, lost to the intricate realm of her brilliant mind. I reach out carefully to envelope her tense musician's fingers in my own, fighting smile when she unwittingly slips her palm into mine.

.

...

.

He stands warm and immovable, blocking my view of the world outside of us.

I lose my train of thought when the heat of his palm covers mine, leaving me staring dumbly at our joined hands. I should still be mad at him for being so rude earlier, but the stark reminder of my failure leaves no room for anything other than the crushing guilt. When I meet his questioning gaze and the surprising tenderness smoothing his sharp features it's all I can do not to blurt out my sins.

"Do you want me to stay?" he murmurs gruffly.

Yes. Always. But if you stayed you would know, and if you knew you would leave anyway.

"No." I croak, barely able to squeeze the lie from my lips.

His mouth morphs into a thin line as his steel grey eyes bore into my downturned lids but he complies, reaching the hand not encased in my own to brush a callused thumb against my cheek.

I shiver, fighting the urge to nudge my cheek into the warmth of his hand. The touch is so careful, so gentle, that were his Seam-grey eyes not following its path I would have been sure I dreamt it.

Luckily he drops his gaze without meeting my eyes, leaving before the ensuing blush has time to spread. Judging from the smirk playing at the mouth of Mac's unreadable face, my predicament was not lost on him. He waits to hear the tinny slam of the mechanical door before addressing me with a more sincere smile.

"You haven't told him?"  
>"Of course not." I sigh.<p>

"My apologies. I thought you two were..."

"No," I snap, interrupting before he voices his careless presumption. "We're allies, that's all."

He raises both his eyebrows and his hands, gestures that somehow speak of both smug disbelief and sincere apology.

"You work for Darius' father." I state bluntly, partly to change the subject and partly because I know that he knows that I know. I recognised the pointed look in his eye when I had finally put two-and-two together after his infuriating little speech. The words could have come directly from Commander Buckley's mouth, reeking of caution and patience. I very nearly lost my cool when Mac used Gale's siblings to make his point, it was a low blow in an already uncomfortable conversation.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" I sigh, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

"At first I thought you knew, then just a day or two before our discussion in the Hob I received word from Commander Buckley himself asking me not to." He shrugs.  
>"But <em>why<em>?" I cry, exasperated. "For weeks we've been left in the dark, wondering where the hell to go from here and all this time you had word from D3! How could you keep it from Darius? Unless..."

"He didn't know." Mac interrupts. "His father wanted me to observe you both, to assess your reactions to the slip up at the Reaping and find out whether you were ready to make the next move. Imagine his surprise when I report back on a third member of the club..." he smirks again as I blush furiously.

"We didn't have a choice. Gale guessed what we were up to and threatened to begin his own independent operation..."  
>"I suggested that may have been the case, but he wasn't angry. The Commander had hoped you were able to recruit more trustworthy people."<p>

"So what did you tell him? About us, I mean."

"I told him the same thing I told you. You're not ready." The pity in his voice sends me over the edge. Throwing my hands up with a growl of suppressed rage, I begin to pace the room in frustration.

"Furthermore," he stresses, "the District aren't ready. People are still scared Madge, it will take something huge to restore people's courage after all these years. We have to be patient."

I throw myself into the spare desk chair, letting my head slide into my hands until all I can see is the concrete beneath my boots.

For just one small moment I'd allowed myself to believe I could make it up to her. To Gale. I was so _stupid_ to think that any amount of childish scheming would make up for my careless mistakes.

"None of this would matter if it was me on that screen." I murmur, as much to myself as to Mac.

"But it's not you, is it? No one liked that idea in the first place Madge, it was a long shot and you know it."  
>"I do, but..."<br>"It's your friend." He finishes for me as I lift my head from my palms, nodding miserably. "You have to stop punishing yourself."

I open my mouth to protest but he stands, taking my hand and drawing me to my feet. I notice that his sharp brown eyes hold the same kindness they did that day in the tent, and I remember the reason I trusted him in the first place.

"Everything happens for a reason, Madge. You are extraordinarily resilient, you proved that last year in the Capitol. _Use _the hand you've been dealt."

"For what?"

"For good." He replies simply.

I nod, quietly gathering the strength to meet the outside world once more. "So you'll work with us if Katniss gets out?"  
>"<em>When<em> Katniss gets out, it would be my pleasure." He smiles and I return it, turning to leave this maze of hopes and dreams, promising to return when my heart is truly here.

.

...

.

I take a moment or so to compose myself before slipping back into the freezing night air. Darius and Gale are waiting for me where we split up before; by the overgrown wood brush surrounding the first empty house of the Victor's Village. Two pairs of eyes question me in the dark but I wordlessly slip an arm around Darius, helping support him until we reach the run down PK hospital despite their protests. Gale blends seamlessly into the shadows when we reach the gate, eventually persuaded by Darius' assurance that the 'accident' would somehow be pinned on him if he accompanied us inside.

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask Darius half-heartedly when we reach the harsh blue lights and uncomfortable chairs of the tiny, clinical waiting room.

He opens his mouth once before shutting it again, a determined set to his jaw.

"Course not." He grins half-heartedly.

"Because I will if you want me to." It's not a lie so I deliver it sternly, hands on hips.

"Nonsense Undersee, I'll be out of here in no time. That is, assuming the nurses can keep their hands off me..." he winks, coaxing a laugh from my sore throat.

"You're awful." I mutter, bending down to give him a quick hug.

"Are we ever going to talk about what happened in there?" he murmurs carefully into my ear.

I straighten up with a sigh, passing a hand across my weary eyes.

"Soon." I reply "Just...give me some time. Please."

I know I shouldn't keep secrets from Darius of all people but I can't seem to muster the strength to rehash my conversation with Mac. I know now that I've been disappointing him in more ways than one ever since I got here and it hurts. I just can't bear to hear him deny it, to watch him forgive me over and over.

He lets out a long sigh, fidgeting with the hem of his uniform jacket. He looks so forlorn that I can't bear to look at him a moment longer, so I press a quick kiss to his cheek to say goodbye and turn on my heels to stride purposefully towards the door.

"Madge!" his steady voice stops me inches from my destination. "I can wait." He states simply.

Without turning, I run.

.

...

.

She bursts through the doors of the hospital like a bat out of hell, startling me from my quiet survey of the tiny building. Before her welcome interruption I was weighing the possibility of nicking some supplies for Mrs E while I'm here ...a venture sadly not worth the risk it would involve. Not whilst I'm currently providing for two families instead of one.

Hurricane Madge is hurtling steadily down the path towards town before I realise she's forgotten me, but it takes four easy strides to catch up to her shivering form.

"Trying to ditch me Princess?" I drawl, barely suppressing a grin at the way she jumps in surprise.

"Oh, it's you! I thought you'd gone home..." She mutters distractedly, impatiently swiping stray golden curls from her pale face flushed pink from the cold.

I scowl as I watch her laboured breath billowing from her lips into the sharp night air. Surely she doesn't think I'd leave her to walk home alone? It's past midnight.

"I said I would wait." I grumble, fighting to keep the petulance from my tone. I move to continue striding down the path, but a sudden soft, warm pressure on my forearm stops me dead in my tracks.

I turn to find Madge Undersee a whisper from my chest, her fingers pressing lightly on the back of my wrist as she stares off into the distance.

"I'm sorry, Gale." She murmurs, sounding unbearably tired. "I'm just a little..." she happens to trail off just as a gentle breath of frozen air lifts her unruly curls dangerously close to my half-shaved chin.

"Distracted?" I finish hoarsely, trying to swallow but finding my throat suddenly dry.

At the sound of my voice her fingers lift, and a startled pair of azure eyes darts upwards to meet my own.

"Yes." A barely visible blush stains her already pink cheeks as she snatches back her hand, drawing a sigh from my traitorous mouth by taking a few not-so-subtle steps out of arms reach. I hold my breath as a tiny wrinkle forms in the middle of her brow. She doesn't look up, but I know she heard it.

I clear my throat carefully and begin to stride down the path towards town, waiting for an argument that never comes. Instead I hear the heels of her boots clicking loudly on the cobbles as she doubles her speed to keep up with my much longer legs. I allow myself a quick smirk before slowing down, careful not to make it too obvious in the hopes of avoiding her ire.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" I hesitate, rolling the unusual question around my mouth. I've never been one to pry. I always figured that people told me what they wanted me to know, but something about the way the Mayor's daughter guards her secrets so carefully makes me...curious.

I watch her face carefully, noting the way her blue eyes widen almost imperceptibly but stay fixed on the path in front of her. The wrinkle reappears and she wraps her arms securely round her waist.

"No." She murmurs eventually, teeth tugging on her lip once more. I can't help but snort slightly because I can tell she's lying, but I shrug my shoulders to let her know that that's ok. For now.

.

...

.

_**A/N: Thanks for reading! As usual, please let me know what you thought! **_

_**Here is the link for my other story, if it doesn't work you should be able to find it by going through my author profile. Much love!**_

_** s/8916258/1/Of-Cabins-Starlight-Fire**_


End file.
